Till The River Runs Dry
by Mara-DragonMaster
Summary: After Miranda, Mal parted ways with Simon and River. Some time later he runs into one of the siblings again to find they've changed– a lot. Then the crew discovers that what is lost might sometimes be found, and that a past event is not as it seemed.
1. Chapter 1

**"Till The River Runs Dry" **

By Mara-DragonMaster

* * *

**Chapter One **

_"It wasn't our fault!" Simon protested as they made their fast way through the bay area. "It just happened."_

_"Seems to me a lot of things happen around you." Mal said, his eyes narrowed and his mouth tight. "And those things have a tendency to bring down harm on me and what's mine, and I don't exactly approve of that." He started to turn away, to head up the stairs and out of the bay. "You are off at our next stop."_

_Simon's eyes widened. "What?"_

_"You heard me."_

_"Captain, you can't do that…" Simon ran up the stairs after him._

_"Well I am doin it!" Mal roared, turning around so sudden that Simon almost ran into him. "I am tired of the Alliance always being just a hair's breath away, and sick of havin people I've been on unsteady good terms with turn on me for the promise of reward." His face and tone left no room for argument. "The next time we land, you and your sister will get off. Is that understood?"_

_Anger and confusion and desperation warred on Simon's face. "What about what we've gone through together? What about Miranda? You stayed with us then."_

_"Yeah." Mal agreed. "And two of us almost died for it. I ain't puttin the lives of my crew on the line like that again." He voice dropped. "You will get off on Hieraz. No more questions asked."_

* * *

Mal stepped into the pub and took a deep, satisfied breath of air, looking around. "Nothing like a good drink," he announced, making his way to the bar. "After a good job."

"No, there isn't, sir." Zoe agreed, taking a stool at the counter.

"Bartender!" Mal tapped the counter top with his finger as he sat down. "Two, please." Taking up the full glasses given them, him and Zoe took a good drink, then set the glasses down, and he sighed. "Life is good."

Zoe looked at her glass, silent, and then raised it to take another drink.

Mal glanced at her. "What? You don't agree?"

"I didn't say that, sir." Zoe said, her eyes rising to look at him pointedly.

Mal rolled his eyes and groaned. "Oh, come on." He exclaimed. "That was over a year ago. You ain't still all up in a twist about that, are you?"

"I didn't say anything, sir."

Mal stared at her disbelievingly. "Right. Okay." He said, nodding though his eyes had narrowed slightly. "Bartender! Another one, please."

As the man filled another glass and set it on the counter Mal looked around, feeling at home and relaxed in the dimly lit room filled with traders and smugglers and other fine businessmen. Then his eyes fell on a table in a corner, where a group of men sat playing cards and drinking. There wasn't anything particular about them to hold his interest, but for some unapparent reason his attention was drawn to a young man at the table, dealing out cards and slapping them down when he got a good deal. His black hair was long on his shoulders and his beard a couple months old, and he laughed and jested with all the others there. Yet there was something dark about him, as though the laughter and easiness were just a front– a very good one, at that– to cover the danger and hardness underneath. Mal watched his movements, the steadiness of his hands, the way it appeared that he drank as much as his fellow card players but really hardly drank at all, the way his eyes were clear and calculating and betrayed nothing but saw everything. He was not someone a person would ever want to cross, Mal decided, taking another drink.

As though feeling eyes on him the man suddenly glanced up in the middle of laughing, searching for who was watching him, and as the light of the room shined fully on his face Mal felt his heart stop dead in his chest.

It was Simon.

"Mal? What is it?"

Moving slowly, so as not to attract attention, Mal turned back to the counter so that his back was mostly to the corner table. "Card table," he said quietly. "Back corner, first player on the left."

He knew when she identified Simon by the slight stiffening of her body.

"Yup." He said, still quiet.

"Well," Zoe said casually. "He looks different."

"He does, doesn't he?" Mal said. "Never figured him for the bad-boy look, but…"

"Who you talking about?" the bartender asked. He looked to where Simon sat playing cards. "Him? Oh– you don't want to mess with him."

Zoe looked at him. "Why not?"

"That's Simon Rio; most round here just call him Rio for short." The bartender said, keeping his voice low. "He's a hard dealer; does one-man jobs better than anyone out there. He's got guts, skill, and a mind like a steel-trap, and he don't mess around. One time an employer tried to short him when it came time to get paid, and he shot the guy in the leg. Was ready to start shooting other parts, too, except the guy gave in. Hasn't killed anybody that I've heard, but…" he paused, and glanced at the card table. "Just cause _I_ ain't heard…" he raised his eyebrows in meaning. "You do business with Rio, you better know what you're doing." He glanced at the table again. "Obviously, these men don't."

"He's moving." Zoe whispered.

Mal turned and looked. Simon had gathered his winnings and was standing, sliding on a brown, weathered jacket, and he shook the hand of each man there, still talking and laughing and apparently leaving on good terms. It seemed the other men were too far-gone to realize they'd been completely cleaned out.

Turning back, Mal looked at Zoe. "Well," he said chipperly, draining his glass. "Let's go say hello."

"You sure that's wise?" Zoe asked.

"Why not?" Mal asked innocently, standing.

As they left the pub they saw him walking away down the street, and followed him to the mostly empty landing field. There were only three ships there: Serenity, another larger ship, and then a small, one-man ship vessel that had been modified to be a deep-space flier. It was to this ship that Simon was heading.

Mal started to jog, and opened his mouth to call out a greeting. Then the world exploded, and the air roared around him, full of hot wind and dust and smoke. When his ears finished ringing and his body realized that it was no longer flying, the fast rat-tat-tatting that followed registered somewhere in his brain as gunfire. Mal blinked, realizing he was on his back in the dirt looking up into a sky quickly filling with smoke. Sitting up he saw Zoe rising to her hands and knees beside him, and then he saw the men in the alley. Simon's ship was a large orange fireball before them, pieces of broken and charred metal lying all around. Simon was behind the side of the other large ship. He waited, mouth set in a grim line and his eyes blazing, and then he spun out and fire spat from the guns in his hands, taking down two of the men in the alleyway. There was shouting, and dirt spat up around his feet, and he dropped the empty cartridges and reached behind and under his jacket, reloading from the six or so extra cartridges he had on his belt.

Pulling out his own gun Mal shot a man coming up on the doctor's blind spot. "Simon!"

Hard eyes turned to him, shock evident for only a moment before he returned to shooting. He jerked as a red line suddenly cut across his cheek, and spinning around he shot the man behind him.

"Simon! Get over here!" Mal yelled, spinning and shooting another guy, retreating as the attackers turned some of their fire on them. Zoe hit a man who decided to make a daring and very foolish charge out of the alley and into the open, and then she pulled out her radio.

"Wash, get ready. We're coming in fast."

Giving a final burst of gunfire Simon reloaded his guns a second time, and then he turned towards Mal and began to run. Dirt clouded and spat behind and around him, and as he ran he raised one of his guns and took out another enemy.

As the engines of Serenity roared to life and began to glow orange above them Mal and Zoe backed up to the ramp, guns firing. Simon barreled into them, and they all turned and ran up and into the belly of the firefly, and with a heavy sound of wind and engine power the ship rose into the air and took off.

Simon skidded to a halt inside the bay, emptied guns still gripped tightly in each hand, and he stared at the bay door as it rose and clanged shut. Jayne stood on the stairs between the bay and the catwalk, holding Vera, frozen when he saw who had come in with Mal and Zoe. Kaylee, who had come running as they took off, stood on the forward walkway and stared, hands gripping the railing, her eyes wide. Wash appeared on the stairs, having set the ship on autopilot. Stumbling to a stop beside Kaylee his mouth opened in a question that died on his lips at Zoe's warning hand, just as Simon gave a frustrated bellow, eyes blazing as his teeth bared. "Zǔ zhòu!" he yelled, throwing his gun at the door where it banged and bounced off, sliding across the floor.

"Nǐ bèi pàn zhě! Nǐ ér mǔ jiào shǎo shān yáng! Yú jiāng yào xiǎn nǐ!"

Mal raised his eyebrows.

"Tā wǒ chuán, nǐ shǔ!"

His explosion over, Simon spat on the ground, then jerked his head, shaking his hair out of his face. He only partially succeeded, because some of it stuck in the blood on his cheek. Giving a final glare at the door as he pulled the trapped strands free he turned his head to the right, and his eyes settled on the captain.

Mal stared for a moment, then he smiled and spread his hands. "Simon! It has certainly been–"

Simon moved faster than Mal could react, a murderous gleam in his blue eyes, and a moment later the captain's head snapped back as a fist collided with his face. The next thing he knew he was on his back with a nose that hurt to high heaven and a ringing in his ears, and Simon standing over him.

"Hey, Captain!" Simon smiled cheerfully down. "Long time no see, huh? Here." He reached down and grabbed Mal's hand, pulling him up to his feet. Then his brows drew together, and he pointed to Mal, who was holding his nose with one hand. "Want me to look at that for you?"

* * *

Translations:

•"Zǔ zhòu!"_Curse!_

•"Nǐ bèi pàn zhě! Nǐ ér mǔ jiào shǎo shān yáng! Yú jiāng yào xiǎn nǐ!"_ You traitor! You son (of a) mother-less goat! I will kill you!_

•"Tā wǒ chuán, nǐ shǔ!"_She (was) my ship, you rat!_

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**"Till The River Runs Dry"**

By Mara-DragonMaster

* * *

**Chapter Two **

In the infirmary Mal held a pack of ice on his face, his eyes peering over it warily as Simon moved around. The others crowded around next to him, staring as their changed ex-crewmember ignored them, going about his business and humming all the while. His cheek sported some butterfly bandages where the bullet had grazed him, his dark hair hanging loose around his face. While he had never been a weak man, his muscles were now hardened and defined, and on his right arm, under the sleeve of his t-shirt, they saw the bottom of a tattoo peeking out. Opening a cupboard he muttered something to himself, and scratched thoughtfully at his beard.

"You want to explain what in the shì jiè happened back there, _Rio_?" Mal demanded, his voice muffled by the pack and funny sounding because of the swelling of his nose. He winced as his nose pained. "And what on earth did you go turning my nose into a swollen plum for?"

"Relax, Captain, your nose will be fine." Simon said, studying the shelves until he found the bottle of painkillers he was looking for. "As for what happened back there," he said, walking over and pulling the icepack down to inspect its progress. "Was a misunderstanding between two business associates."

"Seemed like a bit more than a misunderstanding to me." Mal deadpanned. The icepack was put back on his face.

Simon smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "It was a misunderstanding on _his_ part." He said quietly. Stepping back he returned to the cupboards. "I did a job for him, but his information was faulty. It went wrong, all of it, and he got caught." He faced them, leaning back against the counter. "He blames me for it; mistakenly, of course."

"Of course." Mal agreed dryly.

Kaylee, who had been watching Simon with a mixture of horror, wonder, and confusion, raised her hand. "Um, I don't mean to interrupt here," she said hesitantly. "But–" she paused. "Where's River?"

Simon's face froze, staring at her, and then a look entered his eyes that no one could read, and another casual smile crossed his face. "We, uh–" he laughed. "We parted ways."

"What do you mean?" Zoe asked.

"_We_ are not together anymore." Simon said, crossing his arms and looking for all the world like he was explaining something to a group of children. "We parted company. She went one way, and I went another. And I'm pretty sure she's better off where she is right now."

"So she's safe?" Kaylee pressed, her eyes hopeful.

The corner of Simon's mouth lifted. "Yeah. She's safe." He said. "The Alliance can't touch her where she is."

Mal studied him. He noticed that Simon's words were all light, and that he smiled and laughed as though nothing touched him, and that didn't sit well with Mal. Something wasn't right; but he couldn't put his finger on it.

Not yet, anyway.

* * *

The dining room was unusually quiet. Zoe put together something for supper that kinda, sorta resembled food, and Kaylee carefully set the table. "He scares me." She finally blurted. 

Zoe turned. Kaylee was standing at the table, holding a plate tight against herself and looking up with large, distressed eyes. "Simon." She explained. "He scares me." Shaking her head she walked over to where Zoe stood at the stove and set the plate down, leaning against the counter. "It's just– he's not like him. Not like our Simon. Not that he doesn't look good all– bad , and– and dangerous-like," she quickly stated, and her cheeks flushed a little bit. "But– he's gone all hard and shelled up, like a clam or something."

Zoe nodded, looking at the pretty mechanic quietly. "I know."

"What happened? Back there, on the planet?"

"Someone blew up his ship." Zoe said, keeping her voice low in case anyone else might hear. "There was a gunfight. You heard what he said in the infirmary; seems somebody took a high dislike to him." She shrugged. "It happens."

"Yeah," Kaylee agreed doubtfully. "I guess. But what happened that could make him this way?"

Before Zoe could answer there was a step in the hallway, and then Simon came through the door. He smiled brightly at them, striding across the room to their side. "Hello!" he said, taking up the plate Kaylee had set on the counter. "Mm. Smells good." He sniffed appreciatively, and started to spoon food from the pot onto his plate.

"Ain't going to eat with us?" Zoe asked.

"Uhh–" Simon chuckled, returning the spoon to the pot and pulling open a drawer. "No." he said, getting himself a fork. "No, I don't think the captain would like my company very much. I'm just going to eat in the infirmary."

"Oh, you don't have to do that!" Kaylee exclaimed, looking at him hopefully. "Don't mind the captain; he's just ornery, you know?"

Simon smiled at her, and for a moment his blue eyes softened. "Thanks, Kaylee." He said. "But, uh– I think it would be better if I didn't."

Kaylee watched him leave with an expression of disappointment. "It ain't right." She said. "This whole thing just ain't right."

* * *

Mal muttered to himself as he marched down the hall of his ship to the sleeping quarters. His usual talkative and laughing Kaylee had sat all through dinner without saying more than five words, and everyone had kept to themselves, glancing at each other and at him, and all because Simon had refused to eat with them! After the dishes had been cleared away Zoe had cornered him and told him to go and talk with the doctor, to get things said and squared away. So here he was, opening up the door to Simon's passenger room and stepping in. 

"Now I know you ain't in a sharing mood tonight–"

An empty room greeted him with silence. The blankets on the bed had been pulled back, as though someone had thrown them off to get up, but that was the only indication of someone having been there. Simon's jacket and shoes were also gone. As well as his guns.

"Zǔ zhòu zhī." Mal muttered, turning around and leaving.

Sure enough, he found the doctor in the infirmary, puttering around and doing something with the inventory in the cupboards and muttering to himself under his breath.

"Supplies got a little low, you bein gone."

Simon didn't react to his voice, as though he had known all along he was there. "So I noticed."

Mal nodded and looked around. He had no idea what to say. "So." He stepped in, arms crossed.

Simon turned around, and there was a look in his eyes that Mal didn't like, as though he were laughing at some mockery, and the corner of his mouth lifted. "Let me guess," he said, gesturing with a roll of bandages that were in his hand. "You came down here to _talk_ with me; to find out my story and confront me about what happened today– you know, the whole honorable 'Captain Mal' thing."

Mal's brows drew together, his eyes narrowing. "Sure." He said. He was not much liking the person Simon had become, all smart-mouthed and 'devil may care.' "Since you seem to be all knowledgeable about my wonderings, why don't you go ahead and answer them."

Simon shrugged, setting the roll of bandages down on the counter. "What's there to tell?" he said, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed. "I got my own ship, did some jobs, ticked off a guy– as you saw–" he ducked his head with a grin and scratched at his beard. "Yep. That's it."

"Where's your sister?"

"Told you. She's safe. We parted ways a year ago."

Mal took in that bit of information with surprise, though he did not show it. "A year ago. Huh. So you two parted company right after leaving us, did you?"

Something glinted in Simon's eyes, and his smile as he bit his bottom lip was suddenly not so friendly. For a moment he did not answer, staring at Mal. "Yeah." He finally said, and his voice had a slight edge to it. "Right after _leaving_ you."

The boy had gotten dangerous on his own. The more he spoke with the doctor, the more Mal realized he needed to tread lightly, like walking around a bomb that was liable to go off. "Why'd you move your stuff here?" he finally asked, pointing to the cot set up against the infirmary wall, indicating the coat and shoes and guns on it. "Room not good enough for you?"

The corner of his mouth twitched, the muscles of his face tightening almost imperceptibly. "Too big." He said. "I'm used to a smaller space."

"We got other rooms."

"This suits me fine."

Mal clenched his teeth. The boy was being downright frustrating. "You going to eat in here too?"

"Why not?" Simon said. "Used to eating alone."

Mal nodded, and eyed him up and down. "You're not as pretty as the last time I saw you."

Simon's eyes widened, and a burst of laughter escaped him. "No," he chuckled. "I expect not."

"What may I ask triggered this miraculous transformation?"

"Well, you know the old me." Simon said mockingly, straightening up from the counter and walking over to the cot. "Always so neat and clean, with my soft hands. After I _left_ you I realized a change was in order."

Mal nodded, then pointed. "Just never figured you to get all rough lookin, or– tattooed."

Simon glanced down at his arm. "Yeah, well," he looked up. "Never figured you for a fěi nào."

Mal's eyebrows drew together. "Hey!" he protested.

"Course, with this ship, and the _few_unsteady good terms you still have, I suppose you can't afford to risk driving anyone else away." Simon sat down on the cot and set one foot on the edge, pulling his knee up as he leaned back in a casual fashion.

Mal clenched his jaw. "Don't know as I like the new you."

"Really? Oh no!" Simon widened his eyes with a mock expression of surprise and disappointment. "But– then, you didn't much like the old me either, did you?" His mouth curled up at the corner as though the idea had just occurred to him. "So– I guess that means that– I don't care."

A frustrated growl was working its way out, and Mal stepped further into the infirmary. "Your sister know what you've become?" he asked, his voice low.

It happened so fast Mal didn't know what had happened until he finished blinking and found himself bent backwards over the infirmary table with an arm crushing his throat and a knife against his jaw. Freezing, wondering how in the world the Core-planet doctor had gotten the drop on him, he held up his hands– and found himself staring into blue eyes that were seething with rage and a deep, burning hate that turned his blood cold. "Ah!" he gasped, the edge of the blade sharp and tingly against his skin. "Ahh– guess I walked into that one, huh?"

"Never mention my sister again." Simon whispered, a threat and a warning in his tone.

"Right. Never again." Mal agreed. "I get it."

Simon let go of him and backed away, and Mal released a heavy breath, hand going to his bruised throat. Slowly sitting up he sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his neck, and he looked up warily. Simon stood away from him, staring at him with a hard, unblinking gaze.

"Look…"

"I'll work in your infirmary." Simon interrupted, "Patch you up and keep you well to pay my fare." his voice was dangerously low, and he said his next few words slowly and with care. "But I am not a part of your crew. So don't go and start getting ideas about treating me as one."

Mal blinked. "What…"

"You heard me."

The exclamation and sharp retort died on Mal's tongue at the look on Simon's face, and he frowned. Under the anger and the hate and the hardness he thought he had seen pain, a deep pain like a person has when there's a wound that won't heal. Deciding not to push it, Mal backed down. "All right." He said, and he kept his voice quiet. "Where you headed?"

"Don't know yet."

Mal nodded. "Well, we just have to pick up Inara, and then we're going to Tillion. That okay with you?"

Silence.

Mal sighed. "Right then. We'll see you in the mornin."

* * *

For the next week life went on as usual, except that if anyone needed anything medicinal, they went to Simon in the infirmary instead of attempting to take care of it themselves. He kept to himself, and never ate with them. Sometimes he would speak with Inara, or with Wash, and sometimes with Zoe– not that they had ever talked much together– but he barely said a word to Kaylee, though he was never unkind to her. He ignored Mal and Jayne completely, as though they did not exist. Mal watched him closely, wondering what in the 'verse had happened to change the doctor so. He had caught Simon on more than one occasion using Jayne's exercise equipment in the bay area, late at night, when everyone else was asleep and he thought he was alone. Definitely not like the doctor.

* * *

Inara wrapped her robe around her more tightly, tying the sash against the chill of the ship as she made her way from her shuttle to the kitchen to make some tea. As she stepped from the hall to the catwalk she heard a thump and some heavy grunts, and looked down to see Simon, a sandbag hanging from the ceiling, practicing some form of fast martial arts. He was shirtless, and under the light the colors of many tattoos glowed. Stopping, Inara pushed her dark hair behind one ear and watched, amazed at the speed and skill and agility Simon demonstrated, and she wondered where he had learned the martial arts so well and so fast. 

Simon punched and spun and kicked and hit, and then finally leapt, hitting the sandbag so hard with his foot that it swung dangerously wide and threatened to break free from its rope. Breathing hard, a fine sheen of sweat glistening on his skin, Simon paused, and he looked up. "Hey."

Inara straightened, chagrined at being caught, and she smiled to cover her embarrassment. "Hi." She said as he went to a bench and sat down, still breathing hard. "I didn't know you knew Taekwondo."

Simon shrugged. "It's a new skill."

Inara nodded, then gracefully made her way down the stairs. She tipped her head as she approached him, eyeing the tattoos that seemed to gleam under the perspiration. On his right arm there was a gun, and with some surprise she recognized it as Jayne's favorite– Vera. Spilling down his back in a trickle, and over his right shoulder and down his chest and abdomen in a torrent– splashing off boulders and crashing to rapids at his waistline– was a brilliant blue river. A pink and white cherry blossom curled open at the nape of his neck, and on his left shoulder blade was a Firefly ship– and below it, its pages fluttering in a breeze, was an open book with a blue ribbon. On his left arm was the Chinese symbol for life, and around it a green leaf blew on the wind. Last were plump, ripe strawberries nestled on a soft green vine with curling leaves and little flowers on his belly. "When did you get the tattoos?" Inara asked, sitting next to him.

Simon glanced down. "What– oh." he touched the strawberries on his skin. "Nine months ago. Give or take a day or two."

Inara reached up with a fair and slender hand, and gently touched the tattoo of the leaf and the Chinese symbols. For a moment she wondered at his choice of pictures, and then suddenly, as she stared at the leaf, she realized what they were– symbols, for each member aboard Serenity. Glancing up she caught his gaze, his eyes steady as he watched the realization on her face and waited for her reaction.

"I couldn't think of something for Zoe," he said quietly. "But her name means 'life,' so…"

Inara's eyes ran over the tattoos with new understanding as his voice trailed off, and looking up she smiled. "They are very beautiful."

A hint of a smile touched his mouth.

"Why did you get them?" she asked.

His jaw tightened, and he glanced away, looking forward as though the sandbag still swinging from the ceiling would offer him an answer.

Inara frowned slightly, her perfectly shaped brows curving together. Dropping her gaze to the tattoos again she studied them, and then her eyes widened, and quickly scanning the rest of the pictures she felt her chest tighten. Hidden within the pictures were scars, some faint lines, others like ropes. Within the river there claw marks, raking down his chest and ribs; a circular, mottled patch of skin was within the engine of the Firefly; a gash formed the barrel of Vera, and another formed the blue ribbon of the book. The cherry blossom's soft curling petals were rippled edges of a burn; scattered scrapes were within the Chinese symbols and the leaf; and there was another, puckered scar that made up the largest strawberry. Inara recognized it as the bullet wound he had received on Miranda. And where the water spilled in a trickle down his back, Inara discovered that it was actually a long rope of skin that traveled from the back of his shoulder to his waist.

As she blinked, her mind reeling, Inara noticed that there was only one scar that was not hidden within a picture, that was kept in plain sight. A bullet wound on his chest.

Simon saw the emotions in her eyes, of surprise and horror and tearful sympathy, and his face softened. Covering her hand with his, he drew her gaze from the damage of his body to his eyes. "I didn't want to go around looking like a walking accident." He said quietly, offering a little smile as he attempted to make light of the situation.

A brief smile touched Inara's lips, and she felt herself relax slightly. Yet her eyes were still large with sympathy and distress. "How?" she whispered.

Simon swallowed and glanced down, and for a moment he did not answer. "Reaver attack."

Inara's breath caught.

When he looked up again, his eyes were for once un-shuttered– and they were sad, and so very, very tired. Yet he smiled. "It was a long time ago, Inara." He whispered. "I'm okay."

Inara tried to answer, but her throat was too constricted for any words to find their way out.

Simon stood, and offered her a final reassuring glance. "Goodnight."

She found her voice, and swallowed tightly. "Goodnight, Simon."

* * *

Kaylee bit her lip, her brows drawn together as she wrestled with the nut that refused to come off of its bolt. Laying on her back, grease spread across her cheek, she blew a strand of hair from her face and took a deep breath, then set all her strength to the wrench with a loud grunt of exertion. 

"Need a hand with that?"

Pausing, Kaylee gave the nut a final, withering glare, and then she slid out from under the engine. Immediately her eyes brightened. "Oh." She sat up with a grin, and chuckled ruefully as she wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. "Simon. Hey."

"Hey." His blue eyes shone with amusement as he watched her, leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed. She liked his blue eyes; they almost always had a certain twinkle about them, especially when he was with her– though that had been rare the last week.

"What'r you doing here?" Kaylee asked, drawing her legs in so they were crossed, and she sat up, balancing herself on her hands.

"Well, there aren't any terribly important injuries to patch up, and the infirmary's been organized at least a dozen times now, so…" Simon shrugged, his quick smile revealing the joke, and she grinned. Then his expression grew quiet and pensive, as it always did when there was something serious to be done or talked of. "Kaylee," he said, his voice soft and his eyebrows drawn together. "I feel I owe you an apology."

The corners of her mouth pulled down for a moment in thoughtful confusion, and then, unable to think of anything, she shook her head. "What for?"

Studying his feet, Simon didn't answer at first, though his mouth opened a few times as though trying to find what to say. "I've been ignoring you."

"Aw, Simon…"

"No, I have," Simon said, and as he looked at her Kaylee suddenly felt like it was the old Simon talking to her, apologizing for some believed wrong-doing on his part, his blue eyes so serious she couldn't help but forgive him. "Of most people on this ship, you– you've always been kind." He said. "And I've repaid you by being all cold and closed up. I'm sorry."

Kaylee stared at him, her lips pressed together and pulled in, and then she nodded. "Why?" she asked.

Simon frowned. "I don't…"

"Was it something I did?"

"No!" He looked at her like he couldn't believe the thought had even occurred to her. "No, it was…ah," he shifted his weight and ran a hand through his hair, suddenly uncomfortable. Kaylee wrapped her arms around her knees, waiting. While different emotions played out on Simon's face, he stepped into the engine room and lowered himself to the floor, sitting down facing her, his legs crossed, and he studied his hands.

When he didn't say anything, Kaylee blinked, rocking a bit to calm the nerves in her. "I thought you loved me." She finally said.

Simon's head whipped up, and his blue eyes were wide. "I do! I do, it's just–" he exclaimed. "That's the problem!"

Her soft, innocent face pulled into an expression of surprise. "What?"

Simon opened his mouth, but in his hurry the words got tangled up and he couldn't get them out. Sighing heavily he closed his eyes, and started again. "I'm not good with girls." He said. "Especially girls I like. A lot. So when I got kicked off–" he paused for a moment, studying his thoughts. "I always say something or do something wrong," he said quietly, looking at her with a soft, sad expression. "And I end up hurting you. I just– I didn't want to hurt you anymore."

Kaylee looked at him as he lowered his face, staring hard at his fingers as he drummed them against one another, and then she rolled her eyes. "The 'verse is a funny thing, ain't it?" she said. "By protecting me you _did_ cause hurt, Simon. Real bad. I mean, here you were not talking to me and barely even noticin' I exist and I been thinkin' I had gone and done something wrong, something so terrible that it made you not want me anymore!"

"No! Zǔ zhòu zhī…" Simon shook his head.

Kaylee stared at him, studying him. "You're an idiot." She announced.

Simon's head whipped up, his eyes wide, and then– quite suddenly– he started to chuckle. Kaylee joined him, laughing as a weight was lifted up and out of her heart. Finally Simon shook his head, pushing dark strands of hair behind his ear.

"Wish sometimes I could stay mad at you." She said, shaking her head.

He looked at her. "You mean to say– you forgive me?"

A large, sweet smile filled her face and eyes. "I mean to say."

* * *

Translation:

•shì jiè _world_

•"Zǔ zhòu zhī."_Curse it._

•fěi nào _big softie_

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

"Till The River Runs Dry"

By Mara DragonMaster

Chapter Three

* * *

Zoe stepped into the infirmary, tall and straight as always, her eyes searching for the doctor. She found him at the far end of the room, going over some charts and mumbling to himself. For a moment the first mate paused, eyeing the tattoo of a gun that peeked out from his right sleeve, and as she studied it she saw what Inara had told her about– the scar hidden within the barrel. A tightness took her throat, and she swallowed, viewing Simon with a new respect. She would have to tell the captain; this could go a long way easing tensions on the ship if some of Simon's story were understood. 

The doctor turned at the sound of a clearing throat. "Hey." He said. A strand of hair had escaped his braid, and he pushed it behind his ear. "Here to get innocked before going planet-side?"

Zoe nodded. "Hear I'm the last one."

"That you are." Simon opened a cupboard and pulled down a small kit, readying the syringe-gun. At his gesture Zoe moved to the medical chair and sat down, pulling her sleeve up above her elbow. With practiced hands Simon set the gun to her arm, and there was a slight sting as the needle pricked her skin for a moment. "Planning on being gone long?" he asked, putting the kit away.

"Only long enough to get the goods and secure the terms." Zoe said, pulling down her sleeve. She stood up and faced him, holding her hands behind her back. "Captain wants you to come with us."

Simon turned and stared at her, his blue eyes puzzled. "Why?" he asked.

"Heard of your new fighting skills from Inara." Zoe said, watching him with a steady eye. "Saw for himself how you handle a gun. Figures he could use someone like you on the job."

Simon looked down, his arms crossed as he thought. "Thought he had Jayne for all that."

Lifting her chin a little, Zoe did not argue. "Needs you both. You got a cool head, can keep a straight face. Might come in handy." She paused, waiting a beat while they studied each other, then waiting a while longer. Just as she felt her eyes begin to narrow she realized why he was reluctant, and now that she understood she hurried to clarify. "You ain't being drafted on as crew." She said. "You're being hired freelance; no ties, no strings."

Blue eyes, which had been narrowed, relaxed in understanding, and the corner of his mouth pulled up. "Well," Simon remarked. "Isn't that a switch."

Zoe smiled.

* * *

"I got no quarrel." Mal said, keeping his eyes trained firmly forward as he made his way to the cockpit.

"Yeah, well I do." Jayne snapped, frowning darkly as he stalked in Mal's shadow. "Seems I remember us having a leaving party for him a while back."

"We did."

"Then why in the shì jiè is he back?! He's like a jí feng Freddy Krueger!"

"Jayne!" Mal turned on the edge of the doorstep, and the tracker had to pull himself up short. "Your mouth is talking again."

"Why ain't we dumped him yet?" Jayne demanded, his voice a low growl.

Mal tightened his jaw. Why did people on his ship have to be so particular? "Got no cause to be dumping."

Eyes darkening, brows pulled together, Jayne sidled in close. "Rú guo ni wù pão qì gãi zhu ji huò xing, bãi hé bã zhang dài, yú jiãng yào…"

"You'll _what_, Jayne?" Mal barked, and when he received no answer his eyes narrowed. "I've given my final say on the matter. Case closed."

Jayne grew quiet, though his expression grew darker and he bristled all the more.

Giving a final, warning glare to the wayward tracker, Mal turned his back on the man and made his way into the cockpit. Wash fiddled with the controls, seemingly oblivious to the quarrel that had gone on behind him. Zoe, however, was not so discreet.

"Why haven't you dumped him, sir?" she asked quietly as Mal leaned against the control panel.

He looked out the window. "Thought you weren't opposed to the man."

"I'm not." She agreed, coming to stand behind him, tall and at attention, hands clasped behind her back. "But you got cause aplenty."

She had a point. Mal grew quiet, pondering how to answer. Though he was not given to openness as a rule his crew had been pushing him for an explanation to that very question, and he knew he would get no rest until they had one. "Man's lost."

"Lost, sir?" Zoe questioned.

Mal stood and faced her. "Lost in the woods." He said quietly. His first mate raised her chin slightly as understanding lit her eyes.

"Wash, what's our e.t.a?"

"Fifteen minutes out of Tillion." The pilot piped up.

Mal looked at Zoe. "Best get our gear on."

* * *

Jayne eyed Simon, his dark eyes distrustful and wary, his mouth curled like he'd tasted something bad. Vera sat in his lap, laying out across his arm all polished and shiny, and he casually moved his finger across her surface to the safety, and began to click it slowly on and off, the sound loud in the silence of the cargo bay. Simon ignored the burly man, pushing back a loose strand of hair. With calm, steady, methodical movements he set extra cartridges into his belt, then picked up his guns and slid new cartridges into place before carefully concealing them in the back waistband of his pants.

"Ain't right, you comin' along." Jayne finally growled, standing from his seat on a crate. He drew real close, circling around behind the doctor as Simon pulled on his brown jacket. "You're not family." He said with a disgusted sneer.

"No." Simon agreed. "No, I'm not." His face was impassive, but his blue eyes burned hard with a quiet warning as he turned to Jayne. "I'm the hired gun."

Face falling slightly, Jayne stared for a moment before grinning crookedly and chuckling "That'll be the day." He glanced at Simon's hand, waiting at his side to move at a moment's notice. "I'd like to see you try."

Simon pulled up close. "Might get your wish sooner than you think."

"Listen, you little punk…"

"_Ahem_."

Both men turned to see Mal at the top of the catwalk, his own pistol shiny in its holster. Eyeing them as he made his slow and easy way down the stairs, Mal sidled up beside them, feeling the heat of challenge rolling like waves from each man. "We got a problem?" he asked, his eyes hard and his tone indicating what the correct answer should be.

Jayne's eyes left him and turned to the doc, simmering with intense dislike. "No." he ground.

Simon's blue gaze was equally hard and smoldering. "No."

Mal glanced between the two, and his mouth tightened in disapproval. There was going to be scene before long, he could tell. "Get yourself together." He said, his tone brooking no argument. "We land in ten."

Giving a final, sideways glance at his opponent, Simon followed the captain as he made his way through to the end of the cargo bay. "Dare I ask what the job is I've been signed to?" he asked.

"Got us some cargo to move." Mal said. "Fellow Kalinsky got some goods he wants to trade 'cross planetary borders, only it ain't legal and he won't deal directly with the buyer."

"And the guns are for..?"

"He ain't exactly got a pearly-white reputation." Mal said, glancing at the doctor. Then he looked back at the doors. "And we're tradin' his goods on Whitefall."

Simon's eyebrows rose. "Ah." There was quiet for a moment as his mind worked through all the possible implications of the deal. "I believe it's your turn to shoot her." He finally observed.

Mal chuckled. "I do believe you're right. But lets just keep that to ourselves, shall we? No need to waste bullets if it ain't needed."

Simon nodded. "So while you're dealing with Kalinsky, I'll be keeping a weather-eye open for anything foul?"

"That would be most appreciated."

There was a moment of silence. "I'll go get the mule."

"Alright." Mal stood still, Simon's footsteps retreating behind him. The doc had quieted down some, the last few days, compared to his whirlwind appearance a little over a week ago. Mal couldn't be sure, but he guessed it had something to do with Kaylee. The sweet little mechanic had been going about with a smile on her face again; the girl definitely had a way of soothing ruffled feathers.

A step beside him and a slow, drawn out breath let him know Zoe had made her way to his side. "Sir, there's a few things I think you should know, might explain a few things."

Mal turned to her in shock and surprise. "You really do love me?" he exclaimed in a hushed voice. "I thought they was just rumors…"

His first mate rolled her eyes at him. "About_ Simon_, sir."

He grew quiet.

"Somewhere 'round a year back Reavers attacked the place he was staying." She said, keeping her gaze forward, her tone neutral. Mal's eyes closed, his expression falling. "All those tattoos he got to cover up his scars. Seems he got tore up plenty." Zoe paused, glancing at her captain from the corner of her eye. His head was down, his eyes closed, his mouth tight and moving as he muttered silently to himself. "Just thought you should know, sir." She whispered.

"And River?"

His tone arrested her departure. Zoe turned to him, and shook her head. "Nothing was said of her, sir." She answered. "What are you thinking?"

Mal sighed, his mouth a thin line as he glanced up at where Simon was prepping the mule. "I'm not sure." He said. "Just a little bug in my gut won't leave me alone. Things not adding up." He shook his head. "Everything keeps goin' back to a year ago."

There was suddenly a low rumble, and the ship shook around them. A moment later all was still, and Wash's voice sounded over the com. "_Thank you for flying Firefly Air. Please gather your luggage and depart in as orderly a manner as possible_."

Mal, his eyes overhead, looked back at Zoe and smiled. "Let's go deal."

Kalinsky was a rotund man, his purple and striped vest tight around his middle, his black suit jacket open to reveal a heavy gold watch peeking from his vest pocket. Stroking the grey stripe in the center of his full beard he eyed Mal up and down. "So," he said, his accent hinting at Russian roots. He tapped his heavily ringed fingers on the dark wood of his desk. "You are Mal Reynolds."

Mal nodded, thumbs hooked nonchalantly in his belt.

Kalinsky tipped his head. "You do not look like much."

A small smile curved his mouth. "Well, you know what they say." Mal replied. "Looks can be deceiving."

The Russian businessman laughed. "This is true!" he said. "But who are these?" he pointed.

Mal glanced back. "Oh, this is just my first mate Zoe, and this is Jayne, and Simon."

Kalinsky paused at Mal's words, one eye narrowing slightly as he scrutinized Simon from head to toe. Simon didn't appear to have noticed, his hands hanging loosely at his side. Mal glanced between the two, unnerved by the silence. "How much cargo are we talkin'?" he asked, trying to distract the Russian man's attention back to the business at hand.

Looking back at Mal, Kalinsky smiled. "Ah yes. The cargo. I have heard talk of you, Mr. Reynolds; they say– what is it they say? You got a job, Malcolm Reynolds gets it done for you."

"That's nice to hear." Mal said.

"Fifty head, plus some extra crates from a previous job a man did for me– got for more than I needed, but I hear these people, who I am dealing with, they need such items as are in the crates."

Mal tipped his chin. "Shouldn't be any trouble."

Kalinsky squinted one eye at him. "You know the person I wish to deal with, yes?"

"Indeed I do."

"And this is not a problem, no?"

Mal smiled. "We've had dealings before."

"Ah! Good." Kalinsky clapped his thick, jeweled hands together, rubbing them. "So we have a deal, then?" he held out a hand.

Mal glanced at the guards stationed in the corners of the room, then offered another smile, and accepted the outstretched hand. "We have a deal."

Kalinsky grinned, then motioned to two of the guards to see them out. Silently they all filed from the room, the guards behind them with their guns out and at the ready. Only when they were on the mule, with the crates loaded in the back, and on their way to the landing docks did they finally breathe easy again.

"Well," Mal observed brightly. "That went well."

"Yeah, except one of them two is gonna try an' cheat us outta our pay." Jayne grumbled.

"Maybe." Mal agreed. "Ain't life exciting?"

When they arrived back at Serenity, the crates were quickly unloaded and stored. Then Mal set a hand to Simon's shoulder. "Kalinsky's men should be bringing the fifty-head around soon. Till then, why don't you make yourself useful, take the mule, and go fill up our supplies?"

Simon glanced back and then turned to Mal again. "You sure you won't need an extra hand?"

Mal nodded. "We need you, we'll give a holler."

Kaylee came bounding in on the catwalks just as Simon pulled out with the mule and a trailer, and her beaming face fell slightly. "Hey, captain! Where's Simon going?"

Mal looked up at her and gave a little smile. "Just to get supplies. He'll be back soon enough."

Simon strapped the last box onto the trailer, pulling the strap as tight as he could make it. The town square was bustling on the bright, hot afternoon, and vendors called out their wares and sales' pitches in all different languages. Leaning in close to the mule as a man squeezed past with his wagon of goods, Simon looked up and down the row of sellers, eyeing their produce and wares. It was Kaylee's birthday coming up. He had a little time before he was expected back at the ship. Stepping round to a small wooden stand with a hand-painted sign, he looked at the array of fresh fruits laid out in baskets. The seller smiled at him toothlessly, her weathered face kind and gentle. "É bái tiãn."

"É bái tiãn." Simon replied, smiling. Glancing once more over the selections, he started to point. "Liù méi, yi chéng, bìng sãn diào huán de fèng lí, shi´ gão xìng."

As the woman carefully filled his order, Simon reached into an inner pocket on his coat and carefully withdrew just enough coin to pay. The older woman was delighted as he paid her, looking at the coins with shining eyes, and she tipped her head to him, saying "Ni shì dà bàn qin qiè!" over and over again.

Carefully storing his purchase of fruit, Simon returned to the mule and climbed up. As he started driving away he wondered just what the 'fifty-head' would turn out to be.

As the sun beat down on him and Serenity finally came into view, Simon wiped the sweat from his brow and stopped the mule, crossing his arms on the steering, and he stared in amazement. Fifty beautiful, sleek horses were in the final stages of being herded onto the ship, an array of browns and golds and blacks and whites, paints and spots. When the last one was on the ship he slowly drove forward, somehow managing to pull the mule and trailer in behind the herd and around the side without spooking them. "We're hauling horses?" he said as Mal came towards him.

"Seems like." The captain had a none-too-pleased look on his face, and as Simon took an inward breath and then quickly searched the cargo bay floor, he realized why.

"Well." He mused. "This should be fun."

"Feed is already loaded on the other side of the bay." Mal grunted, lifting a box from the trailer. "Should be set till we reach Whitefall."

"How long is that?" Simon asked, taking a box of his own.

"Two days." Mal glanced at the origin of the new smell on his floor, and gave it a nasty look. "Heaven help us till then."

Later that night, after supper had been ate and the horses fed and everything squared away, Simon made his way through the ship to the passenger dorms, holding against his side a small, woven basket with a wooden cover. As he stepped around a corner he came face to face with Inara, nearly colliding with her, and she gave an exclamation of surprise.

"Oh! Sorry…" He apologized.

"No; no, don't be." She smiled warmly at him, her red mouth curving gently. "I was just on my way to make some tea."

Simon nodded, glancing down at the small basket and holding it up. "I was just on my way to see Kaylee." He smiled, but it was small and a little embarrassed. "It's her birthday, so…"

"You got her a gift?" Inara's dark eyes shone. "That is wonderful!"

Simon shrugged, but she could see that her words had pleased him. As he made to pass Inara turned. "Goodnight, Simon."

He paused and looked back. "Goodnight, Inara."

As she gracefully continued on her way to the dining area, her silken robe rustling about her feet, Simon turned and went down the corridor of the passenger dorm. Finding the door with Kaylee's name prettily painted above it, he hit the button and opened the door, then leaned over the opening into which the ladder dropped. "Kaylee?" he called quietly. "Can I come down?"

"Simon?" There was the sound of flurried motion, and then her pretty face looked up at him, smiling brightly. "Sure! Come on down; come on!"

Crawling carefully down the ladder, Simon descended into her room. At the bottom he turned and looked around, eyeing all the little knick-knacks and decorations that made the room so 'Kaylee.' His eyes found the frilly pink dress, still securely hanging on the wall over her bed, and he smiled at the memory of how delighted the dress had made her. Kaylee noticed, and her eyes followed his gaze. "You should wear it again." He said, stepping closer to her, still looking at the dress.

"Oh," she shrugged and waved a hand. "I ain't got nothing to wear it for." She put her hands in her pockets and tipped her head, and her gaze became dreamy. "Sure is nice to look at, though. Just… having it, it's nice."

Simon looked at her, and he smiled. "You're nice."

Kaylee looked at him, then laughed. "Well, do you– do you want to sit down?" she asked, and held out a hand, indicating her bed. "I don't have chairs, but…"

Simon followed her, and together they sat down on the edge of her bed. Kaylee hooked one knee up, turned sideways to look at him better.

"I, um," Simon fingered the small, woven basket. "I remembered it was your birthday today, and…"

"You did?" her smile was instantaneous. "You remembered?"

The corner of his mouth lifted as he looked at her. "And I thought you might like something. You know, a gift. So…" he held out the basket. "Here." He said quietly.

Her eyes were shining as she took it in her small hands. "Aw." She said, tipping her head. "You didn't have to get me anything." Her words were said warmly and sincerely, but by her expression he could tell that it meant the world to her that he_ had_ gotten her something. With sparkling, expectant eyes she took the cover off the basket, and her mouth opened wide. "Oh, Simon!" she breathed, the scent of fresh fruit rising from the wooden compartments within the basket. Strawberries, pineapple, and an orange lay before her in all their ripe glory. Tenderly she picked up a strawberry and lifted it out, gazing at it with adoration, and then slowly she placed the end in her mouth and took a bite, her eyes closing.

When she finally finished the strawberry and opened her eyes they were shining with so much joy that Simon was almost overwhelmed.

"How did you know these were my favorite?" she asked, indicating the contents of the basket.

Happy he'd made a good choice, Simon shrugged. "I looked at the choices, and I thought: 'What would Kaylee like?'"

She giggled. "Ni tião xuan shàn."

He smiled. "I'm glad."

* * *

Translation: 

• shì jiè_world_

• jí feng_blast (blasted)_

• rú guo ni wù pão qì gãi zhu ji huò xing, bãi hé bã zhang dài, yú jiãng yào…_ If you don't dump that Core-planet, lily-handed doc, I'll…_

• É bái tiãn _Good day_

• liù méi, yi chéng, bìng sãn diào huán de fèng lí, shi´ gão xìng. _Six strawberries, one orange, and three rings of pineapple, please. _

• Ni shì dà bàn qin qiè _You are most gracious._

• Ni tião xuan shàn _You chose good. _

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

"Till The River Runs Dry"

By Mara-DragonMaster

Chapter Four

* * *

"Ã yã tao yàn!" Wash exclaimed, the bandana wrapped around his head doing little to mask the smell of fifty horses confined on a ship for two days. 

Simon stepped in just in time to hear the pilot's exclamation. "How long till we reach Whitefall?" he asked, holding the back of his hand to his nose.

"Not soon enough!" the suffering in Wash's voice was audible. "We are thirty minutes from entering atmo." Glancing over his shoulder, Wash looked at the doc. "Say, how's life in the backwater of the infirmary?"

"Oh, you know." Simon slid into the co-pilot's seat, pushing hair from his face. "How's the pilot's life?"

"Ah, near crashes, interesting landings," Wash tipped his head in simulation of a shrug. The bandana flapped as he talked. He coughed. "Little air circulation."

Simon nodded, tipping his head back against the seat and looking out the door in the general direction of the cargo bay. "I've been informed that I was selected– because of my brains and my skill– for clean-up duty once the deal is made."

Wash's eyes squinted as he glanced over. "Who told you that?"

"Jayne. But I'm not sure I should take it seriously."

"Nah."

"No. Didn't think so."

Wash chuckled. "So what's it like being back with the old gang?" Simon was silent. Glancing over, Wash saw that the doc's blue eyes had shadowed and grown distant, his expression unreadable. "Sorry." The pilot said, sobering. "Probably none of my business."

"No; no, it's okay." Simon looked at him, seeming to have snapped out of his trance. "It's– different," he paused. "And yet totally the same. I feel more like _I've_ changed than anything or anyone on this ship."

Wash nodded. "Y'know, I've been wondering– why'd you bunk up in the infirmary 'stead of in your old room?" His voice was quiet, unsure if he were treading on thin ice or not.

Simon looked down at his hands, fiddling with his fingers, before looking up and answering. When he did his eyes had gone blank. "Too many memories."

Looking at him, Wash was about to ask what he meant when it suddenly dawned on him. "Ah." A hundred new questions popped into his mind, the foremost being 'what happened to make those memories painful,' but he thought better of it and kept his mouth shut.

"Wash! We close?" Mal poked his head in.

"Fifteen from atmo, captain." Wash replied.

"Good. Simon?" Mal pointed with his finger, indicating Simon should follow.

"I'd like you to be especially wary on this ride." Mal said as they walked, keeping his voice quiet. "Patience is about as trustworthy as a dead possum, so keep your eyes open and looking all directions."

Simon nodded, wrinkling his nose as they passed the cargo bay. "And Jayne?"

Mal paused and turned, studying him. "What about?"

"Where'll he be?"

"He's our blind gunman." Mal said, eyes narrowed as he tried to read the intent behind the question. "Good with a sniper gun. There going to be a problem?"

"Not on my part." Simon said.

For a moment Mal eyed him, but there was nothing but open honesty coming from the doctor, so he relaxed a little. Simon wouldn't do anything; unless, of course, Jayne did something first. "Best you get your guns ready."

Simon nodded, and left to go to the infirmary. Mal watched after him, then went to find his crew. Zoe was already set and good to go, as was Jayne. The man had belts filled with rounds strapped around himself, guns in his waistband and his rifle in his hands. Zoe was in the process of trying to get him to understand that they weren't going in to take over, just to make a deal, but Jayne was having none of it.

Kaylee was down in the cargo bay, her pitchfork resting against the wall behind her, rubbing the nose of a beautiful bay stallion who looked at her with large liquid eyes. Inara stood beside her, dressed in one of Kaylee's jumpsuits, her dark hair pulled back and rubber boots on her feet. She and Kaylee laughed and talked quietly, hand-feeding the large animals the last of the hay. Mal had to stop and watch for a moment, his head cocked to one side. It wasn't often Inara traded her silk for work clothes. He was surprised at the change, and still more surprised that while she no longer had the trappings, she still possessed all the grace and beauty and mystery belonging to her trade, proving that it was the woman and not the things that made her who she was.

Simon leaned against the railing beside him, startling the captain for a moment. How had the doc learned to move so quiet-like? Simon's blue eyes were soft as they watched the women below, all of his attention directed on them. Or so Mal thought. "There's a good chance there'll be an exchange of fire, isn't there?"

Mal nodded. "Seems to be the way of it, least with this woman."

"Anything particular I should watch for?"

Hands on the railing, Mal shook his head. "Changes every time; Patience don't like routine. Gets to be too predictable."

The ship began to shake, rumbling around them for a brief moment before everything grew still.

"_Alright people. We have reached land_."

Mal stood up, an expression of satisfaction and anticipation on his face. "Alright." He said. "Let's go deal."

Putting up a makeshift corral took a good couple of hours, but when they were done they were pleased to find it sturdy and spacious enough to house fifty horses excited to see the light of day.

Right on schedule there was the sound of approaching horses, and three riders appeared. As they drew closer one could see that the center rider was Patience, all in her grey coat and brown hat. Mal frowned; wasn't like her to come with so few men. "Dang too predictable." He muttered to himself, his eyes quickly scanning the surrounding landscape.

Behind him, Zoe and Simon suddenly grew more alert, stiffening ever so slightly. He could feel the burn of their gazes as the riders pulled up in front of them. Patience eyed them with squinted, black eyes. Her weathered face seemed more lined than the last time they'd met, but Mal supposed that was because this time she wasn't smiling.

"Mal."

"Patience."

She looked at the herd of horses. "Nice bunch you got there. 'Specially for being carted on a ship for two days."

"We aim to please."

She nodded, chewing on something in her cheek. "You got the other goods you mentioned?"

"I do." Mal said. "Three crates of medical supplies."

She squinted at him. "I don't see them anywhere. How do I know you actually got them?"

"Well," Mal crossed his arms, leaning to one side. "Seeing as how I've always kept my end of the deal and you've tried to da si me– _twice_, I might mention– we'll be trusting me and my word this time 'round."

She looked none too pleased, but Patience was a shrewd woman. She nodded, and reaching into her coat she pulled out a bag and tossed it to him. Mal opened it and found the coin they had agreed to. Looking up he pulled the tie closed and set the bag on his belt. "Ain't that a small army to be moving a herd with?" he asked.

"Karl and Larry here know how to handle horses."

He nodded. "Got no mule." He pointed. "Gonna tie the crates behind your horses and drag 'em to town?"

"We got our ways."

Mal tightened his jaw, staring down the woman who stared back. She was fixin' something, if she hadn't fixed it already. "I would 'preciate it if y'all would take your herd and head back to town." He said. "Once you do, we'll dump the crates and leave, and you can come back and collect."

Patience studied him, then nodded. "A'ight." She turned to the two men. "Let's go."

Zoe and Simon opened the corral gate for them, eyeing the three riders with mistrust the whole time. Patience and her two men rode in, and immediately started herding the horses out, giving yelps and shouts to speed things up. The ground shook a little under their feet as the horses poured through the gate and down through the valley, and soon herd and riders had disappeared in a rolling thunder and cloud of dust.

Mal watched the dust and dirt as it began to settle, hands on his hips and mouth tight. "I do believe that woman is planning to kill us." He finally said.

Simon and Zoe walked over to his side. "What do we do?" Simon asked.

Mal's eyes were narrowed. "Drop the crates and run. Jayne!" he yelled into the radio he'd pulled from his coat.

"_Yeah, Mal_?"

"Stay in position and keep an eye out. Something's fixin' to break loose."

"_Roger_."

While Zoe went to their mule and started it up, Mal and Simon headed to the bushes and proceeded to pull loose branches from the one side, until the three crates were un-concealed. Just as they moved to pull them out there was a loud, exploding_ crack_, and sparks flew in every direction next to Mal's hand. Jerking back Mal spun and pulled out his gun as chaos ensued around him, and quickly he moved around and ducked behind one of the bushes. He felt Simon at his back as bullets kicked and spat up dust and dirt around them, the shots coming from all directions. "Jayne!" Mal yelled into the radio. "Thin 'em out a bit!"

Simon crouched behind the bush, his eyes scanning the surrounding hills. He saw Zoe hidden behind the mule, holding her big shotgun, but every time she made a move a bullet almost hit her. Searching the landscape Simon studied the different areas in the direction of the bullets. Slowly he pulled out his guns and clicked off the safeties.

Mal peeked around the bush, trying to get his bearings on their attackers, when suddenly Simon spun out from behind the bush. "Simon, you bèn dàn, get back here!" he shouted– only then he grew quiet.

Fire spat from the end of Simon's guns. His face was tight and intense, his teeth bared. He fired at exact locations, bullet casings littering the ground at his feet as he moved from target to target, replacing the cartridges as needed. The enemy fire steadily grew less and less as each gunman was taken down.

Mal watched amazement, then turned when he saw Jayne crawling down from his hiding place through the brush. Quickly Jayne found a new spot and laid on his belly, rifle held at the ready, and he began to take down some of the remaining few enemies.

All of a sudden it became quiet. Compared to the deafening sound of gunfire moments before the silence was almost overpowering. Simon waited, guns still held up, ready to squeeze off another round of shots at a moments notice. Until a round of shots suddenly hit him square in the chest. He stumbled back, jerking as each bullet hit him, and Mal looked out to see the glint of sunlight on a sniper gun far in the distance. Too far for his pistol. He grabbed his radio, turning to look at his tracker. "Jayne! Take him out! Take out the ér de yi gou!" To his shock he saw Jayne trained on the sniper– and doing nothing. "Jayne!" he shouted. "Take him out! Now!"

For a moment Jayne did nothing, glancing at Simon and back again at the sniper. Then he bent down and looked through his scope, aimed, and fired. The sound echoed for a long moment, the sound waves bouncing back and forth between the hills.

Zoe ran out from her place behind the mule. "Simon!"

The doc lay in the dirt, arms outstretched on either side, guns still clutched in his hands. He wasn't moving. Mal cursed vehemently, scrambling out from behind the bush. When he got his hands on Jayne…The sight of the tore-up shirt made his stomach clench.

Simon suddenly coughed, then twitched, pulling in a ragged breath. Face screwing tight he coughed again, and then he groaned, one hand dropping his gun to reach for the collar of his shirt. Mal dropped beside him, eyes barely registering the clean, tore up, hole punched fabric that was ripped all to bits. Zoe knelt by his side a moment later. "Easy, doc." She said as Simon groaned again. "Just take it easy."

Ignoring them Simon tightened his grip on his collar and roughly tore it open, revealing a bulletproof vest that was bent almost beyond recognition. Still drawing in ragged breaths Simon's eyes fluttered open, and he looked up at them. "Ow." He groaned.

Mal shared a relieved glance with Zoe, who smiled largely at him. "That's going to leave mark." He commented.

Grimacing, Simon tried to sit up. Zoe and Mal each grabbed an arm, setting their hands to his back to help ease him to a sitting position, then slowly, once he'd caught his breath, to his feet. Mal kept a hand on him while Zoe picked up his guns, still laying in the dirt. Simon kept a hand on his chest. "That hurts." He gritted, then he winced as something twinged. "Ah!"

"Easy there, doc." Mal warned, keeping one arm around him. "Think you just added to those lovely tattoos of yours."

"Yeah," Simon clenched his teeth as he roughly pulled the bulletproof plate from the vest, breathing in relief once it was gone. "Only purple isn't my color."

"Darn." Mal took a step with him, heading for the mule when suddenly Jayne jogged up behind them, rifle in hand.

"We get paid?"

Mal froze, willingly letting Zoe take over supporting Simon on his way to the mule. Then he turned dark and burning eyes onto the tracker. "What the yão guài was that?" he demanded.

Jayne pulled back. "What?"

"You had the perfect shot." Mal's blood was boiling. "If he hadn't been wearing a vest he'd be a xuè xing wù ti right now, that ever occur to you?"

Jayne's eyes blackened, and he stepped in so close Mal could almost feel his breath. "What if it did?"

Mal grabbed the front of Jayne's jacket and fisted it, his nostrils flaring. "You ever try anything like that again," he whispered, "And I will tie you up and leave you for Reaver food. You got that?"

Jayne pressed his lips together, brows furrowing.

Letting go, Mal gave him a final glare that promised this wasn't the end of it. Returning to the mule, Mal found Simon sitting back with a hand under his shirt, holding his ribs. Zoe sat ready at the controls. "You alright?" Mal asked, indicating Simon. The doc nodded, though the tightness of his face said otherwise. Climbing in, Mal waited till Jayne had joined them, then he nodded at Zoe. "Let's go home."

The ride back was silent and uneventful. Wash, Kaylee, and Inara were waiting for them in the cargo bay, the door open for them. Their worried expressions relaxed as the four companions drove in, parking at the far inside end of the bay. "So things went well…" Wash's upbeat greeting trailed off as Simon crawled from the mule with a little help from Zoe, arm press to his ribs. "What happened?"

"Seems the little talk I had with Patience last time didn't stick." Mal said, jumping out of the mule. "Still, we got paid."

Kaylee hurried to Simon's side, her face downcast with worry. "Simon! What happened?" she asked, fingers gently touching the black vest peeking out from the tattered remains of his shirt.

"There was a little… hitch." Simon said, turning narrowed eyes on Jayne. Everyone else followed his gaze.

"What?" Jayne protested. "Hey, I didn't shoot him!"

"Well, are you alright?" Kaylee asked, her eyes full of distress as she looked up at him.

Simon nodded. "I'm just bruised, Kaylee. I'll be fine."

"Um…" Wash raised his hand, glancing nervously between Jayne, Simon, and Mal, feeling the tension between them. "We got a hail from the docks at Whitefall; someone needing a ride."

"No way." Mal announced, marching up the stairs to the catwalks above. "Not in the shì jiè."

"But it's the Shepherd."

Zoe, standing close to her husband, looked at him. "Shepherd Book?"

He nodded. "Said he'd been doing missions here. Guess he's been hopping from place to place doing good works."

Mal stood on the stairs, staring down at them with pursed lips, his eyes dark with contemplation. "Alright." He said. "But tell him to meet us in exactly thirty minutes; I don't want to hang around and I don't want anymore trouble than we've already had."

"Right." Wash turned back to his wife, sliding an arm around her waist as they touched foreheads. "You sure you're alright?" he whispered.

Zoe smiled, setting a hand to his shoulder. "Yeah." She said. "I'm fine."

Kaylee touched Simon's arm as he went to walk towards the stairs. "You need any help?" she asked, her face still pinched with worry.

Simon looked at her. "No, it's okay, Kaylee." He said. "We're about to take off; you go ahead and handle the engines. I'll be fine."

She still grabbed his arm as he made to leave. "You sure?"

He smiled softly at her. "I'm sure." She still didn't look convinced. "Really, Kaylee, I'm just bruised. But… if it will make you feel better, you can stop by the infirmary when you're done in the engine room, okay?"

Though her eyes still held shreds of doubt and concern, Kaylee nodded. "Okay." She said. "But you be sure to be there;" she poked his arm. "I want to see for myself."

"I'll be there." Simon promised.

Standing aside, he let Kaylee go up the stairs first, and Wash and Zoe. As Inara brushed by she paused and gently touched his arm, her brows pulled together with concern. "Are you sure you're alright?" she said. "I could come with you and help…"

Simon shook his head. "Really, I'm fine. But thank you, for the offer."

She smiled gently at him, then turned and headed up the stairs.

Wincing as his chest twinged again, Simon held the railing and set his foot on the first stair; but he paused and glanced behind. Jayne stared at him, his gaze dark and menacing. Simon's eyes narrowed. He really did not like that man. Slowly, carefully, he made his way up the stairs, and then to the infirmary.

The faint vibrations of take-off moved under his feet. Closing the door behind him Simon grimaced, holding his chest, and went to the chair. Slowly and painfully he pulled off his jacket, and then removed the tattered remains of his shirt, laying both items across the arm of the chair. Then he pulled loose the velcro shoulder and side straps, and let the vest fall to the floor. The air was cold on his skin. Glancing down he saw black and purple bruises mottling his chest and abdomen wherever a bullet had hit, with some swelling and a few welts. Wincing, he went to a cupboard and opened it, and pulling down a bottle he dumped two painkillers into his palm, and tipped his head back and swallowed. Then he went to the cold unit and pulled out some icepacks. Shuffling to his cot he carefully laid down on his back, grimacing, and laid the cold packs across his ribs, a shiver overtaking him at the initial contact. The cold eased the throb somewhat, and as he lay there the painkillers finally began to kick in, easing it even more.

What seemed to be a while later, but could have been only minutes, Kaylee gently touched his cheek, waking him from the deep sleep he'd fallen into. "Simon?" He made a sound, turning his head. There was another soft touch, stroking his beard. "Simon, wake up." Slowly, putting up a mighty struggle, he forced his eyelids to open. Things were blurred at first with sleep, but as he blinked they became clear, and Kaylee's pretty face came into view. She smiled down at him. "Hey, sweetie." She said, gently brushing his long hair from his face, smoothing it back across the pillow. "How're you feeling?"

"Mm." Simon sighed, then winced when the heavy breath moved bruised flesh. "Sore."

"Let me see." Small hands pulled some of the icepacks back, and he saw the skin suddenly wrinkle between her brows. "Ouch! Simon." she glanced between him and the bruises, which were now showing in all of their hideous glory. "What happened?"

"Sniper." Simon mumbled. "With a gun somewhere between a rifle and a machine gun."

Her breath caught, and as her eyes found his he saw the horror and fear in them as the scene played through her mind, and she realized what could have happened. "Zu zhòu shì jiè." She whispered, grabbing his hand between hers and squeezing it. "Thank goodness you were wearing your vest!" Stroking his hair she gazed at him dearly. Simon gave a small smile, his eyes drifting shut.

A soft touch on his chest opened them again, and he saw Kaylee staring at the tattoo of the river, a mixed expression on her face. Her fingers were tracing the corded scars that ran down his right side. She must have felt him still beneath her, because her eyes flickered to his before returning to the tattoo. Her mouth opened to talk, but at first no words came out, and she had to swallow. "What was this from? In particular, in that fight?"

The question came out as a faint whisper, but it seemed loud in the silence. At first Simon said nothing, and Kaylee's eyes shot to his, and started to apologize, but his finger gently touched her lips. His gaze was quiet, his mouth softly closed as he tried to formulate the words to answer her. He swallowed. "It happened last," he said, his voice hushed. "When the Reaver tried to…"

Her breath caught as he paused, her eyes wide with shock and horror and pooling with tears.

"He kept grabbing at me."

Without her conscious thought, Kaylee's fingers formed themselves to match the scars, tracing where he'd been clawed time and again, and then she shuddered and flattened her fingers. Glancing down at the other tattoos, she gently touched his arm, and the green leaf.

"Shrapnel, from an explosion. On both arms and my back." Rolling just enough that he could bear it, and just enough that she could see, Simon showed her the open Bible with the blue ribbon, and when she pulled his hair aside she saw the burn beneath the cherry blossom. When she touched the engine of the firefly ship, he tensed slightly, and she saw his throat work as he swallowed. "Exit point. From a bullet."

As he laid back down Kaylee wiped at the tears on her cheeks, sniffing, and then wiped at her eye. "I'm so sorry." She whispered, tucking hair behind her ear. Then she reached out and did the same for him. "I'm so, so sorry, Simon."

Brows pulling together, Simon reached out and took hold of her shoulders, pulling her down to him. "Hey, it's okay." He said, stroking her hair as she tucked her face between his shoulder and neck. "Shh. It's okay."

"That Reaver tried to _eat_ you!"

Simon's eyes closed tightly, his jaw clenching as he pushed the memory back.

"How did you escape?"

Swallowing, Simon opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. "I found a knife, while we were fighting." He said. "And… I killed him."

Kaylee shifted her head, sniffing. Her arm lay ever-so-carefully across his chest, her hand softly stroking his arm up and down.

"It was a long time ago." Simon whispered. His eyes were unblinking. "A long time ago."

A low rumble and shiver running through the ship alerted them, and Wash's voice sounded over the com system: "_Ladies and gentlemen, we have landed at Whitefall_."

Kaylee sat up, brushing wetness and hair from her cheek. She looked down at Simon, and smiled. "Shepherd."

Moving slowly and stiffly, Simon followed Kaylee out of the infirmary, pulling a dark, knit shirt over his head. As they reached the catwalks they heard Mal greeting someone, and then an old, familiar voice reached their ears.

"Well, I was just trying to bring help to them that need it."

"So where're you off to next, Shepherd?"

"Hieraz. Couple of villages outside of the town there need help of the sort I can bring. Going to stay there a while."

Kaylee leaned over the railing. "Shepherd!"

His kind, older face rose with a smile. "Kaylee! It is good to see you."

Bounding down the stairs, Kaylee threw her arms wide and embraced the Shepherd joyfully. "Been too long!"

"Indeed it has." Shepherd Book pulled back and looked down at her, beaming. As Simon slowly made his way down he looked up, and his eyes widened slightly. "Is this Simon?" he asked.

Kaylee smiled. "'Course he is."

Shepherd Book stepped forward, holding out a hand, his smile warm and genuine. "Has it really been so long?"

Simon took the offered hand and returned the smile. "Person can change a lot in a year."

"Indeed." Shepherd Book laughed, eyeing him up and down, taking in the long hair and beard. "Indeed!" Pulling Simon close Shepherd embraced him, unaware of the momentary wince that was quickly disguised. When they pulled apart the Shepherd glanced about, his eyes searching, and his wide smile lowered a bit. "Where's River?"

Silence filled the cargo bay. Shepherd book looked around at the awkward expressions, and then at Simon, who's face was still as relaxed as could be, but though he smiled it didn't reach his eyes. "We parted ways." He explained.

Shepherd Book looked at him. "Ah. So, where did she go?"

There was the slightest hint of a swallow, but nothing more. "A place safe from the Alliance." He said.

The Shepherd seemed satisfied with that answer, until he saw the hard, unbelieving look the captain was giving the young man. For a beat there was more silence. "Well." Mal said, breaking the spell. "Kaylee, after we take off, why don't you and Zoe see to supper. Shepherd, why don't I show you to your room and you can get settled in?"

As everyone began to disperse, Mal stepped close to Inara. "If you could join the Shepherd and me, I'd be most grateful." He whispered.

As the small group of three made their way to the passenger dorms, Shepherd Book spoke. "It seems to me that much has changed since I last saw you." He said. "Particularly with a certain member of your crew." As they reached his door he turned, and looked straight into Mal's eyes. "Tell me what's happened."

Sitting in the Shepherd's room, Mal and Inara recounted the events, as far as they understood them, from a year ago, and then what had happened most recently. Book lowered his head, hands clasped before him.

"See, my problem is, things just ain't adding up like they're 'sposed to." Mal said, leaning back in his seat. "It's like– like somethin's eatin' this kid up inside."

Inara nodded in agreement. "Almost as though he's angry about something. Angry at the world." She looked at the Shepherd. "You can't always see it; not in anything he says or does, but it's there, in his eyes. When you ask him questions."

Book nodded. "I saw that, when I asked of his sister."

Mal pointed his finger. "He's _never_ answered that, not once."

"Do you think she's been taken again? By the Alliance?"

"I don't know." Mal said. "But I aim to get to the bottom of it."

* * *

Dinner was delicious, enhanced once more by the few herbs the Shepherd brought with him. Rosemary, mostly. There was much talk and laughter, stories told and news shared. It lasted long into the night; it was late before anyone got to bed. 

As they left for their quarters, Simon stopped Wash. "How long till we reach Hieraz?" he asked quietly.

"Uh, 'bout a day and a half." Wash said, pressing a palm to a tired eye. "Why?"

"No reason." Simon said, and he raised his hand. "'Night."

"Good night!" Wash sang, before Zoe dragged him away.

* * *

Simon slowly opened his eyes. At first he couldn't understand why his eyes were crying, and then he realized the air was full of smoke, and it was stinging his eyes. Coughing he dragged himself to his feet, stumbling as he tried to run, but he couldn't run fast enough. The explosion knocked him from his feet, throwing him twenty feet through the air. Hot metal and pieces of glass showered him, slicing and burning his skin. Simon curled, protecting his head until the shower ended. Then he raised his eyes, searching. He saw figures in the fire and smoke before him, running and shouting. Quickly he pushed himself to his hands and knees, calling to them, and he stood and started to follow. A loud crack and a sharp pain threw him onto his back. Simon gasped, hand instinctively going to cover the wound, feeling blood against his palm, soaking through the back of his shirt where the bullet had gone through. The throbbing intensified, but he clenched his teeth, baring them as he rolled to his side and pushed up. He made it to his knees. 

Suddenly something barreled into him from behind, grasping and clawing at him, shrieking in his ear. Simon yelled, fighting, rolling over and over with the thing on his back, until finally he managed to knock it off– but only for a moment. A sudden sharp line of fire erupted across his back, and as he gave a shout he rolled, and saw looming over him a hideous creature– its face mutilated beyond recognition, eyes bloodshot and wild. A knife glinted in its hand. As it lunged for him again Simon kicked out, knocking the knife loose and sending it flying through the air. There was a horrible shriek, and then the thing was on him, biting, grasping, clawing. They rolled over and over, struggling in the dirt, grappling for control. He saw the knife, shining in the firelight, laying in the dirt and ash, and he reached for it… only to feel the broken nails raking through his skin…

Simon struck out, pushing against the hands that held him– but then it started to talk, speaking gibberish. Yet it wasn't gibberish…

"Simon! Simon!"

How did it know his name?!

"Wake up! Simon!"

Hands grabbed his face, and he kicked with a shout, knocking himself and the person who held him over a ledge– and he hit hard floor.

Vision was still kept from him; the Shepherd's face slid from his own to the creature's and then back again, and as hands reached for him Simon backed away, still trying to sort vision from reality.

"Simon, it's just a dream." The voice reached his ears, calm and familiar. "It's just a dream, Simon. Wake up."

Blinking, one hand raised to shield his face, Simon suddenly became aware of a very real throbbing throughout his midsection, yet still he blinked, unable to take his eyes off of the figure before him, still indistinct.

"Simon, wake up."

It was the Shepherd, kneeling on the floor before him, hands outstretched with palms up. His face was calm, his eyes reassuring, yet there was a pinch of concern in the lined brow. Still feeling the nails in his skin Simon pressed a hand to his chest, over the blue river that tumbled down his ribs and belly. He heard someone panting heavily, and then realized that it was the sound of his own breaths. Closing his eyes for a moment to try and get his bearing the disfigured face lunged at him again, and his blue eyes flew open. Shepherd Book gazed at him quietly, waiting for him to return to reality on his own time.

Simon breathed deeply, keeping one hand pressed to his chest. "Shepherd?"

"Yes," Book said gently. "I'm here."

Grimacing, holding his arm against his torso, Simon slid himself to a sitting position against his cot.

"Are you alright?"

Rubbing his eyes Simon shook his head, more in an effort to clear his mind, but not entirely. "That face…"

"What face?"

"It wasn't human." Simon whispered. "It was like… a demon." He blew out and ran his fingers through his hair. He didn't realize they were shaking.

Book gazed at the young man with empathy. "That's over now." He said quietly.

Simon laughed, fingers still woven through his hair. "No, it's not." He said. "It's never over."

Shepherd book left the infirmary a good while later. The crowd that had formed outside had slowly dispersed; Mal was the only one still up. He sat in the dining area, glass of something in his hand, a single light illuminating where he sat at the table. He looked up as Book entered the room. "How's he doing?"

Shepherd took a seat across from him, and sighed heavily. "He's asleep." He answered. "Don't know for how long."

Mal shook his head, his eyes burning holes in his cup. "Don't know why it should start now. Been on this boat two weeks."

"Where did you say you dropped him off a year back?"

Mal looked up. "What's that got to do with…" his voice trailed off as the Shepherd's meaning dawned on him. "Aw, zu zhòu gè shì jiè zài zhi nèi zhòu." He muttered, eyes closing.

* * *

The next day was quiet. Those on the ship, as time allowed, visited with the Shepherd all they could. Most times they found him in the infirmary, playing cards with Simon, talking quietly about this and that and sometimes nothing at all. No one mentioned what had happened the night before. Not Kaylee. Not even Jayne. 

That night, as people dropped off to bed, their arrival on Hieraz the next day loomed over him, and memories better left forgotten rose up in the late hours. Simon soon found himself in the cargo bay, once more taking his frustration out on the hapless punching bag. Adrenaline kept him up, staving off sleep, which was a welcome thing.

"Think you're tough 'cause you hit a bean bag around?"

Simon paused, breathing heavily, shirt damp and sticking to him. Some hair had escaped the roughly-tied back ponytail, and he brushed it back from his face.

"Geez, that ain't nothing." Jayne's drunkin voice seemed especially loud in the late night quiet. "I been hurt worse'n that. Been through more fights'n that. How come you're the one to get all the attention?"

Simon stared straight ahead. "You're drunk, Jayne." He said. "Go to sleep."

"I ain't finished!" There were heavy steps on the stairs, growing steadily nearer. "You're just a prissy boy who grew up havin' everything, only now, you're as low as the rest of us. And all because of a spoiled little brat who's as crazy as they come."

His blue eyes narrowed, the fire in them beginning to smolder. "Better walk away, right now." He warned.

"Or you'll what? Hit me? Hah!" Jayne was right behind him now. "You don't have the guts. Y'were always hidin' behind yer little sister's skirts, all 'cause she thought she could kill someone with her brain! Ain't gettin' much crazier than that!"

As Jayne laughed at his own 'humor,' Simon's jaw continued to grow tighter, his hands beginning to fist at his sides.

"Stupid, crazy girl who didn't know make-believe from reality. Always spouting off stupid nonsense and baby-talk and the like– hey, she leave you 'cause you was so sissy-ish? She finally get all tired of your white-collerin, rich boy ways, leave you 'cause she's tired of all your whinin'–"

The fist spun through the air and hit Jayne clean on the jaw, knocking him back where he fell to the ground, rubbing his face. For a moment he lay there, hand to his cheek, stunned. Then his eyes came to life, and he turned. Simon faced him, eyes dark and rolling with thunder, fists hard at his sides. "Well, now." Jayne said. "Seems you got dan liàng after all."

Simon's voice was cold, yet there was an underlying current of boiling fury. "Don't you ever mention my sister again."

Jayne pushed himself to his feet, his eyes alight, the corner of his mouth curving. "Or you'll what? Sic her on me?"

With a roar Simon was upon him. Blows were exchanged both ways, both men throwing each other about, wrestling and rolling around the floor, knocking things from their original place so that they made an awful loud noise. As the two men fought voices could be heard from the sleeping quarters, growing louder as the disturbed sleepers sought out the source of the commotion.

Jayne barreled into Simon, wrapping his arms around his middle and charging forward, shoving him into a wall. Simon yelled, bruised abdomen protesting, and he brought his hands together into one giant fist and smashed it down, again and again, until Jayne lost his grip and stumbled back. Both men were bruised, both bleeding.

"What in the shì jiè is going on here?" Mal demanded, anger evident in his upraised voice as he leaned over the catwalk's railing.

Jayne picked up a piece of pipe, holding it like a club. Grinning, he went after Simon, who ducked and weaved easily. He started pulling in his fighting skills, hitting Jayne where it counted, avoiding the clumsy swings until he finally hit Jayne so hard across the jaw the big man fell back, eyes rolling in his head. Yet it seemed that Simon didn't notice. He crouched over the tracker, fist raised to continue the assault, when suddenly he was grabbed from behind, arms hooking under his own and locking them in an upright position, pulling him back from his opponent as he growled in consternation. "Cool it!" Mal ordered, grunting with effort as Simon struggled to get free, still intent on finishing what he'd started. "Zu zhòu zhi, Simon, I said_ cool it_!"

The heat and adrenaline emanating from the young man was frightening. Simon paused for only a moment as Mal's words sank in, then he gave a loud growl of exertion and brought his arms down in a fast, tight, and sharp movement, breaking Mal's grip. Yet instead of going after Jayne again, he turned for the stairs, his gaze still on the beaten man, still burning with a haze of fight and blood. Taking the stairs two at a time he mounted them, ignoring the onlookers as they drew back from his passing, watching as he disappeared into the infirmary and slammed the door shut.

Mal stared after the retreating figure, then looked down to his tracker, who was beginning to stir. "See, now, I told you to leave it alone." He scolded.

"_What_ is _going on_?" Wash exclaimed, looking confused and flustered and unsure as to why he was out of bed. Zoe just stood beside him, robe wrapped tightly around her, arms crossed.

"Something that's been fixing to happen for a while, I imagine." Inara said, eyeing the moaning tracker with some disgust.

Kaylee stared at Mal, her expression one of dismay. "Captain?"

Shepherd Book waited quietly behind them all.

Mal looked up at his crew, his expression closed off to his thoughts. "Back to bed." He said. "Get some sleep. We'll ponder on this in the morning. Wash," he motioned with his hand. "Help me get this bèn dàn to his bed."

* * *

Mal paced his room after the ship had gone silent again, sleep avoiding him like the plague. Whatever had happened, he knew Jayne deserved it; he'd been fixin' to get into a fight since the doc's reappearance. What had him concerned was Simon. Thing had to be big to get Simon to snap like that; and then he'd seen that same look again, the same one he'd seen two weeks earlier when he had confronted Simon in the infirmary– the pain of a wound that wouldn't heal. Mal muttered to himself; his thoughts always got so muddified late at night. Maybe a drink or a late snack might help set them to right. 

The light was on in the dining area; a single light, right over the end of the table. A person sat there, their hair falling around their face all tangled and pulled, their eyes sunken and grey. A half-filled bottle and a shot glass sat before him.

Simon didn't look up when Mal stepped up to the table, nor did he say anything. Mal watched him closely. Saw the torn-up knuckles, the beaten-up face that hadn't even been washed yet since the fight. He'd have to be careful what was said. "Looks like something from Jayne's stash." Mal commented, pointing at the bottle as he sat down.

There was a moment of silence, then Simon shifted. "Found it here. Was contemplating whether or not take advantage."

That's when Mal noticed that the shot glass had been filled. It was at this that Simon was staring. "Looks of you, wouldn't think you were a stranger to having a drink now and then."

"Well, you know what they say." Simon's eyes lifted, suddenly very blue– and yet dull. "Looks can be deceiving." A smile lifted the corner of his mouth, but it disappeared quickly, and the eyes dropped. He studied the shot glass a moment more, then decisively picked it up and tipped it back. Setting the glass on the table he swallowed, and then his eyes squinted and he coughed, eyes watering, shoulders hunching.

Waiting a beat for the attack to subside, Mal lifted the bottle hesitantly. "Want another?"

"Yeah." Simon lifted up the glass, his response so quick Mal paused a moment before refilling the shot. The doc tipped it back as fast as the first, but the attack was less. He cleared his throat, baring his teeth for a split second as the shot burned its way down.

Mal waited, silent, watching. The bruises were starting to show on Simon's jaw and cheek and eye, and the blood had dried above his eyebrow and beside his lip. His nose wasn't bleeding anymore; that was a good sign, though the tinge to the bridge made Mal think it was broken.

"We were there for all of two hours." Simon said. His voice was low and quiet, his eyes staring at the glass, unblinking. "They came so fast, no one had time to do anything but panic."

Mal was silent.

"I tried to keep us together; I really– I really tried. But the crowds were so bad, people pushing and shoving and running– we got separated. I couldn't find her. Some people took me in, hid me with them in their basement till it was all over."

A terrible coil was uncurling itself in Mal's stomach. He waited when Simon stopped, face tightening, eyes pooling as he shoved his fingers into his hair, raking them through. A tear spilled onto his cheek. "I searched for her afterwards. Looked everywhere, searched the whole town; all I found was her jacket." He pulled in a hard breath. "It was– it had blood on it. It was tore-up."

Mal stared, his heart unmoving in his chest, not breathing as Simon's head lowered, hair falling to hide his face, hand clasping his head as his shoulders shook. Similar scenes of carnage flashed through Mal's mind, and he swallowed tightly with a throat gone hard.

There was a heavy breath, and Simon stirred, raising himself. "Ah. I hate you." He opened his eyes, moving his hand from his face to his hair, his blue eyes burning and rolling with anger and pain, all of it washing away in grief. "I have hated you for so long." He said, his voice hushed. "Almost as much as I hate myself."

Mal finally found his voice. "Would think you'd have cause to hate me more."

Simon shook his head, oblivious to the tears that still wet his cheeks. New anger filled his face, his mouth going tight. "I should have protected her." He gritted. "I had sworn I would, and yet– the moment she was left in _my_ care, she was lost. Truth was, only time she was safe was while she was here. With you. Soon as she fell into my care only…" Water filled his eyes, and he clenched his teeth. "I failed her."

Mal, arms resting on the table, dropped his chin with a heavy breath, then leaned back, looking to the ceiling for guidance. What could he say? "I am more sorry than you know." He finally said, looking at Simon. He hoped Simon could read the honesty and sincerity of his words.

It seemed he could. Simon stared at him, then slowly he nodded, and then looked down, head resting on his hand. It was silent for a long while "I don't know what to do." He whispered. He shook his head. "I haven't known what to do for a year."

Mal perked up, if a man could do such a thing in such a situation. Here was something he might be able to lend some help to. "Well," he said. "Man's gotta get a firm footing under him, otherwise he'll just keep falling and never get on." He paused. "I know we ain't always been the best of friends…" He ignored the snort of wry laughter. "But there are some good people here who have been. You'd have a job, a home, and people who care." Mal paused, studying Simon's expression; it seemed a mask, but he could tell the doc was listening. "All you gotta do is say."

There was silence. At first Mal wasn't sure Simon would take him up on it. "I'm tired of running." The words were said so quiet at first he couldn't hear them. Simon looked up, and his eyes were exhausted. "Alright, Captain. You got yourself a deal."

* * *

Translation:

• Ã yã tao yàn!_ Oh disgusting!_

• da si _kill_

• bèn dàn _idiot_

• ér de yi gou! _son of a dog!_

• yão guài _devil_

• xuè xing wù ti _bloody body_

• shì jiè_ world_

• zu zhòu gè shì jiè zài zhi nèi zhòu. _curse every world in (the) universe._

•"Zu zhòu zhi."_Curse it._

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

"Till The River Runs Dry"

By Mara–DragonMaster

Chapter Five

* * *

The cockpit was silent. Everyone stood or sat around, eyeing each other, eyeing the door; even Jayne was there, sore and beaten as he was. One eye was swollen shut, his lip puffy and split, his face a mess of bruises, and he sat in the copilot seat with the look of one who's about to be sick. Simon was still locked in his infirmary with all of the lights off, but it was still very early in the morning. 

They waited for Mal.

"What do you think is going on?" Wash's voice, though very quiet, seemed loud.

Zoe stared at the door, leaning back against the console with her arms crossed. "I don't know." She said, and glanced at Jayne from the corner of her eye. "Could ask him."

Jayne looked up with his one good eye. "Hey, don't look at me." He grumbled, slouching in the copilot's seat. "Can't rightly remember last night's happenin's myself."

Wash leaned over to peek around his wife. "'Cause you got hit, or 'cause you were drunk?"

Jayne opened his mouth to retort when a hush fell over the cockpit once more, steps sounding in the hall. A moment later Mal stepped through the door. His face was grim, his mouth set like it'd been glued shut, and his eyes were dark as they flickered over everyone, pausing a breath on the messed-up tracker, who simply hunkered further down in his seat.

Everyone started asking questions at once, Shepherd's voice calm and controlled, Inara up close, Wash in puzzled, exclaiming bewilderment, Zoe with pointed words, and Kaylee in concern and worry, her pretty, dark eyes wide and her forehead pinched.

"What happened last night, Captain?"

"Mal, what's going on?"

"Could someone explain to me what in the shì jiè happened?"

"Sir, there's some of us would like an explanation."

"Is Simon alright? What's going on?"

"River's dead."

The words hung in the air like a gunshot, deafening in the silence. Mal stared at them, and a muscle in his jaw worked as he regarded the stunned and shocked faces before him. "Seems Reavers attacked right after we dropped them off a year back."

Zoe and the Shepherd closed their eyes. Jayne stared at the floor, his expression one of disbelief. Inara dropped her gaze in confusion and grief, and suddenly seemed unsteady on her feet. Wash simply stared with his mouth hanging open, but Kaylee, eyes welling with tears, stepped out and stood in front of Mal. "She's dead?" it came out as a whisper, her voice breaking. "We left them, and she died for it?"

Mal swallowed hard, clenching his jaw as the mechanic's eyes bore into him, welled with grief and shock and disbelief. "Seems that way."

There was a muffled sob, Inara pressing a hand to her mouth. Shepherd Book, his head still bowed, whispered an inaudible prayer, his hands clasping his Bible.

Mal straightened himself. There were some things he knew needed clearing up. "Now the doctor don't hold no grudge against any of you. Well," he glanced at Jayne. "Least no more than before. And no more than is earned." He said the last part more to himself; he didn't see his first mate or Inara glance at him. "Past aside," he continued. "He's agreed to stay on board. Join our ship; become part of the family." He offered a slight smile when Kaylee turned to him, her eyes brightening just a little behind the tears. "He'll stay on as our doctor. Nothing more, nothing less. He'll do what's needed, same as the rest of us." Mal shot a pointed look at Jayne, who, upon hearing his words, straightened a little, some of the dark mood he'd been in for the last few weeks lifting.

There was a moment of silence.

"How's he doing, sir?" Zoe asked quietly.

Mal shifted his weight. "He's sleeping." He said. "Best let him for a while yet; he'll be plenty sore when he gets up."

"Ain't too hurt, then?" Wash asked, his voice hesitant.

"Well, his bruises ain't no picnic." Mal answered. "'Stead of resting them he put himself through more damage, so…" he shrugged. "Ain't nothing debilitatin', just going to be a little stiff and slow for a while." Glancing around, Mal waited a beat, and when no one said anything he nodded. "Alright then. Go to your posts, do your jobs. We move on. Just like always."

The crew disbanded. As Mal walked down the hall away from the cockpit there were quick boot-steps behind him, and then Jayne's deep, gravely voice. "Hey! I, uh…" he stopped as Mal turned to face him. "I, uh…Maybe I was a bit out of line, before." He spoke slow and quiet. "Gettin' up in your face about the doc an' all. Just… felt a little out a' place, you know?"

"Ain't no one getting replaced here, Jayne." Mal knew why his tracker had been acting out. He'd seen the same thing happen when a pack of dogs had gotten a new member; fights broke out all over in regards to ranking. "Just making some room for another, is all. Now I can't promise I won't take him on any more jobs." He warned, and continued before Jayne could interrupt; he wanted to set things straight and clear. "He sees things; got a good eye, good with a gun, but that don't make him my new tracker, that don't mean all the time, and that don't put anyone else out of a job. You hear?"

Jayne's face visibly relaxed, and he straightened his shoulders, his head high again, and he nodded.

Mal tipped his chin, satisfied and glad that the little misunderstanding had been cleared up. Jayne left him, going to his quarters, and Mal continued on his way again only to be stopped by a slender hand on his arm. Inara stood before him when he turned, her dark eyes reddened and wet, faint trails of salt dried on her cheeks, but there was an expression of concern in her eyes that made him pause. "Yes?" Mal kept his voice low. "What can I do you for?"

She looked at him a moment more, her red lips parting as she tried to find words. "I… I just wanted to say…" she paused. "You don't blame yourself, do you?"

Mal felt his jaw tighten, and something fisted in his chest. "I surely do." He admitted in a whisper, and turned to leave.

"You couldn't have known!" Inara followed, holding her silken skirts up so she could better match his long stride. "You can't hold yourself responsible!"

"I was the one who sent them off this ship." Mal turned on her, and his eyes were intense and serious. "Inara, I am very much at fault here. Now I know what you're trying to do," he interrupted her protest. "And I very much appreciate it, but I know what was done and what happened because of it. I ain't afraid to own up to it." He set a finger to her lips. "But I ain't going to drown in self-hate because of it. Doing that wouldn't help nobody, 'specially Simon. Now I made a mistake, and because of that his sister's dead. It may be a little late but I aim to do right by him."

Inara stared at him silently, amazed by his admission of guilt and by the unexpected outpouring of his true thoughts. Mal was not a person who liked to admit to wrong, and she could see how this was gnawing at his person. She dropped her eyes for a moment, then lifted them again. "I just wanted to be sure." She whispered.

Mal nodded, and glancing to the side she saw him swallow. "Got some business to be done." He said, and his voice had a huskiness to it.

Inara nodded, turning away, but as he left she turned again to watch him.

* * *

Simon woke slowly, the sweet nothingness of sleep and the warm, soft folds of the pillow and blankets surrounding him, trying to hold him back, but the faint lights from the machines in the infirmary and the hum of the ship pulled him to wakefulness. As he lay still and blinked, clearing the fuzziness from his eyes, Simon realized he felt more rested than he had in a great, long while. He had a slight headache in his temples, and his chest and parts of his face throbbed faintly in time with his heart, and he was stiff, but still he felt better– at least physically. Memories of the previous night came flooding back and he groaned, pressing his hands to his face and then wincing as his nose protested the touch with a terrible, pain-filled exclamation, and he grimaced, tenderly brushing his fingertips against the swollen, bruised bridge. 

Thirst beckoned him. Simon set his fists to the mattress below him, only to wince as fabric rubbed damaged, scraped knuckles. Opening his hands he set them flat against the mattress, and tried again, pushing himself to a sitting position. Now up he flung the blankets aside, shivering as the warmth of the bed left him and the cool air of the infirmary hit his skin.

Padding barefoot across the floor towards a cupboard, pulling on a shirt and intent on getting some painkillers, Simon glanced at the clock and came to an abrupt stop. For a moment he could not believe his eyes; Mal would never have let him sleep so late! Would he? Simon pushed tangled hair from his eyes, and studied the clock. Sure enough, it was eleven in the morning. A tight, not-so-good feeling entered the pit of his stomach, but as it growled up at him Simon decided it was from hunger rather than a feeling of imminent doom.

Bruised and stiff muscles protested as he reached up to open and search the cupboard, but Simon grit his teeth and continued his search until he found the bottle. Quickly he downed a few painkillers with a glass of water, and then turned. Shuffling stiffly to the medical chair he sat down on the edge of the seat and adjusted the mirror at its side. His reflection looked worse than he'd thought. He looked like he'd been run over by a train; twice. And then trampled. Last night, when he'd cleaned the blood from his face and set his eyebrow and lip with some butterfly bandages he hadn't looked half so bad, but then it had been late and the bruises had only just started to flourish. Gingerly he touched his nose, now set back into place and all manner of brilliant colors.

There was a soft knock on the door. From the corner of his eyes Simon saw Shepherd Book on the other side, and he waved his hand. The shepherd opened the door and stepped in, shutting the door behind him. "I passed by a few minutes ago and saw you were awake." He said, walking in, holding a small tray. "So I thought I'd bring you some breakfast."

The smell of warm food teased Simon's nose, and his stomach rumbled silently. "Thank you." He said, accepting the tray and setting it on his lap.

For some reason he found it hard to raise his eyes to look at the shepherd. He guessed that by now Mal had informed the rest of the crew of his midnight confession, and he shifted, pushing some stray hair behind an ear. For a little while, while he ate, there was silence.

"I'm sorry about River."

Simon paused mid-chew, then resumed and swallowed slowly. He knew the shepherd was sitting beside him with his hands clasped, his expression one of sympathy.

"Wasn't right, what happened."

"Yeah, well…" Simon mumbled.

"But you shouldn't blame yourself." Blue eyes lifted to his, and Shepherd Book felt his heart go out to the young man, for the guilt and sadness he saw in those eyes. "What happened wasn't your doing." He continued quietly. "Just bad timing."

Simon nodded, staring at his food.

Shepherd Book sighed, glancing at his clasped hands. "If you want, I can pray with you." He offered.

A puff of air that might have been a laugh escaped Simon. "I've prayed for a year, Shepherd." He said. "Prayed that I would wake up and find it a dream; that by some miracle River was still alive." He paused. "God never answered."

"Maybe not so you heard it." Shepherd Book said, and he went on to explain when Simon glanced at him. "Sometimes a person can listen and look so hard that they miss it, even when it's most obvious. Most often we're not willing to wait for Him, or we keep asking for the wrong thing."

Simon looked away, processing the shepherd's words. Then he spoke, and his voice was quiet. "Maybe, you could say a prayer for me then, Shepherd. I've used up mine; God knows I need them."

As the day wore on, Simon was not surprised to be visited by each crewmember in turn, each offering their own version of comfort and empathy. Mal had dropped in once for barely a minute, to see if he was up and about and not too sore from the night before, but then he left as quick as could be, seeming to be uncomfortable in Simon's presence.

Sometime in the early afternoon Simon became aware of a presence in the infirmary doorway– someone who seemed to be waiting there, and had been for who knows how long. It was Jayne. The broad man stood there silently, shifting from one foot to another, looking around as though entering the infirmary for the first time. Simon eyed him up and down, taking in the injuries his fists and kicks had done to the man. One of Jayne's knuckles had a decent sized split, as did his cheek. "Want me to put a weave on that for you?" Simon asked.

Jayne turned, as though startled Simon had actually spoken to him, and then glanced down at his hand. "Naw, you don't have to…"

"They need it." Simon gestured. "Sit down."

Still with an expression of uncertainty, Jayne carefully entered the room and made his way to the medical chair, where he sat down, eyeing Simon warily all the while. Simon ignored him, gathering his needle and thread, scissors, gauze and tape. Moving stiffly he pulled up a stool and sat down beside the chair, turning on an overhead lamp. Without a word he fingered the split cheekbone, then threaded a needle and started to work. They were silent, the two of them, with neither a flinch from the patient nor a glance from the doctor. When the cheek had been cared for Simon turned his attention to the hand.

Jayne watched as Simon worked, unsure and uncomfortable. "Sorry 'bout your sister." He finally blurted.

Simon paused, then kept sewing.

"Weren't right of me, getting on like that." Jayne continued. "I didn't know… I won't never talk about her again, I swear."

Simon snipped the thread, and looked up. "You're done."

Jayne stared as he stood up, moving carefully as he went to the counter and began to put away his tools. "That's it?" He said in surprise. "You ain't gonna try an' warn me off, or threaten me or nothin? Ain't gonna go all vengeful?"

"No." Simon turned. "Don't see how that would do either of us any good. Besides," he folded his arms. "Seems by your face I went vengeful already. Be a waste to do it twice."

Jayne looked at him, then dropped his eyes, thinking. Then he stood, and began to walk to the door. Upon reaching it he stopped. "Am sorry 'bout your sister." He said, turning. "What happened– it just ain't right."

Simon's neutral expression did not change, but something in his eyes did. "Thank you, Jayne."

For a moment he didn't move, then Jayne gave a small nod and left, closing the door behind him. As he made his way down the hall and rounded a corner he almost collided with Kaylee, her hair pulled back and her face smeared with engine grease. She offered him a small smile, though her eyes were puffy and red from a very recent cry. "Hey," she said. "Simon in the…"

"Yeah, he's there."

"Okay. Thanks." As she disappeared around the corner, Jayne heard the door open and Simon's voice, and then the sound of the door closing. Shaking his head the tracker continued on his way.

* * *

Shepherd Book made his goodbyes to everyone on the ship, visiting Simon and Kaylee in the infirmary and saying farewell to everyone else in the cargo bay. When he finally left, disappearing into the throngs of people swarming the streets of Hieraz, a strange hush fell over the ship, his departure leaving a sense of emptiness. Quietly they lifted off, and Wash entered in the coordinates to a place where Mal was sure they could find some work.

* * *

Kaylee lay against Simon, where she'd been the past hour since the shepherd had left, picking at his shirt, careful not to press against any of his bruises. They'd been quiet for a while, simply soaking in each other's company. "Is it hard? Being here?" she asked. 

Simon glanced down. "What?"

"You won't sleep in your old rooms 'cause they remind you of her," Kaylee said, looking up at him with innocent eyes. "Is it the same all over? I mean, everywhere else? On the ship?"

Simon absently stroked her shoulder. "Sort of." He said. "I mean, not really– not like that." he struggled to explain. "Other places– on the ship– I can focus on other things, you know?"

She nodded, then lifted her chin. At first Simon wasn't sure what she was looking at, until slender fingers started stroking his beard and playing with his hair. "It's different." She said.

"I was thinking of maybe cutting it…"

"No, don't! I like it."

"Why?"

"I don't know." Her eyes flickered over his face, and a little smile played at the corners of her mouth. "It's a good look for you. Different, but good." Her smile grew. "Little bit of the rebel in you comin' out."

"But I'm not a rebel anymore. I'm a doctor. Doctors aren't rebels."

She giggled. "Says who?"

He frowned, his blue eyes looking at her in confusion. "You know– I don't know."

Mal, passing by, paused when he heard laughter, and smiled. Good ol' Kaylee.

Heading up to the cockpit, Mal was surprised to see Zoe hurrying out, her eyes wide and her breath heavy. "Sir!" she exclaimed, pulling to a stop.

Mal frowned at her disheveled state. "What is it?"

"It's Shepherd Book, sir." She said. "Says it's an emergency."

Mal strode down the rest of the hallway and into the cockpit, Zoe in tow, and Wash turned. "He's here, Shepherd." He said, then directed his words to Mal. "He's on visual."

Mal leaned over the small screen. "Shepherd." He greeted. "What seems to be the trouble?"

"_No trouble, Captain._" Shepherd Book's image nodded at him_. "I'm in a small village deep in the hills outside of Hieraz. People here still in need of help after the Reaver attack last year._" He glanced to one side. "_Found… something of value._"

Mal opened his mouth to offer a question when suddenly his eyes grew wide, the words dying forgotten on his tongue.

River looked at him from the small screen. "_Captain?_"

* * *

Translation:

• shì jiè_world_


	6. Chapter 6

"Till The River Runs Dry"

By Mara-DragonMaster

Chapter Six

* * *

The three occupants of the cockpit stared. Mal's throat and mouth seemed to have suddenly conspired against him and gone dry as Isis Canyon, and he couldn't get any words out no matter how he tried. Zoe beat him to it.

"River?!"

"_Found her staying here with a nice family._" Shepherd Book said, one arm around the young girl.

Mal's voice suddenly decided to show up. "I'm a might confused as to why a dead girl is standing there next to you looking all bright and perky like she just had her birthday?"

"_Seems after she and Simon got separated there was an explosion, and a piece of board or something hit her and knocked her unconscious._" The shepherd explained_. "Family visiting Hieraz found her and took her with them when they fled the town._"

"Why– why– why doesn't Simon know about this?" Wash exclaimed, looking between the screen and his wife and back to the screen. "Wouldn't she have tried to hail him or something?"

"_Couldn't remember,_" River said. "_Pictures but no words. Didn't know._"

"_Lost her memory._" Shepherd Book explained. "_Took one look at me and starting laughing and crying and saying all manner of things. Took a while to sort out._"

"_Lots of pictures; all painted on skin._" River's eyes started to search. "_Where's Simon? Different now; didn't recognize him._"

"_Seems she's been having visions of Simon for the past year._" Shepherd Book said.

Mal straightened, his expression of shock never changing. He looked at his first mate, and then at his pilot, and then he turned and ran.

Simon held his hands up, brows pinched together in concentration. Kaylee sat cross-legged on the bed before him. "Now take _this_ finger and loop it through this piece of the string– no! Not like that! Aw, now it's a mess!" She laughed as Simon gave a playful growl.

"I told you I'm no good at Cat's Cradle."

"Don't matter. Here, let's try again."

Mal burst into the infirmary looking like he was being chased by a horde of Alliance troopers. "Captain," Simon greeted him, a puzzled expression on his face as he glanced out the door for Mal's pursuer. "Can I help you?"

"Something you need to see."

"What…?"

"It's your sister. She's alive."

In retrospect, announcing it in that way most likely was not the wisest move– though Mal wasn't sure that any other way would have been better. Simon's face froze, and then such a smoldering, burning heat entered his eyes that Mal had the sudden urge to back up, especially when the doc let the string fall from his hands and stood up. "Don't you dare have fun with me." He hissed.

Mal opened his mouth. "Now, what in our past together would give you cause to think I'm funnin' with you?"

"How about the time you told me Kaylee was dead?"

Mal blinked. "Well, maybe that one– but– This is different!" He pointed out the door. "She really is alive– she's on the visual!"

Simon stared at him, his expression warring between firm disbelief and tentative hope and shock.

Mal held the blue eyes with his own. "I don't lie. Not about this."

For a moment it seemed Simon was paralyzed. Then suddenly the doctor bolted, nearly running over Mal as he fled the infirmary. Kaylee scrambled from the bed, her eyes huge. "Captain…?!"

"Come on!" Mal caught her arm and herded her in front of him.

They arrived just seconds behind Simon as he burst into the cockpit and over to the console, breathing hard, his blue eyes wide and unblinking. "River?!"

"_Simon?_" Upon seeing him, she started to cry. "_Simon!_"

"River!" His voice cracked. "How?"

"_I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Simon! I couldn't remember!_"

Mal glanced at his pilot. "You set a course for–"

"Already done, Captain." Wash said, blinking rapidly as he turned away from the reunion. "Luckily we're only an hour out."

It was the longest hour of everyone's life. Simon paced the cockpit, pausing ever few minutes to ask Wash how much closer they were, until finally the frazzled pilot announced that they were landing and could Simon please, please evacuate the cockpit! He didn't need to say it twice. Simon went to the infirmary, where Kaylee had beaten him to his destination and was sitting on his bed, waiting with his brown jacket.

"We there?" she asked, sliding off the bed.

Simon nodded, and suddenly his arms were around her and she was crushed against him, his face in her hair. Sliding her arms around his shoulders she stood on her tip-toes. "Hey, it's shiny." She reassured him. When he finally let her go she smiled brightly, and held up his jacket. "It's chilly there."

Simon slid his arms into the sleeves, and as she let go he shrugged it onto his shoulders, then winced, one hand pressing to his chest.

Kaylee frowned. "You okay?"

He nodded. "Just moved wrong." He smiled down at her. "That's the problem with getting your middle bruised; everything you do hurts."

Just then the ship gave a low rumble, and everything vibrated around them for a few brief moments.

"_Aaand… we're good. Simon, get out of here!_"

Kaylee smiled, smoothing his jacket, then looked up at him with bright eyes. "Ready?"

As they reached the cargo bay, they found Jayne, Zoe, and Wash already there, the bay door lowered and a cool breeze blowing through. Mal was nowhere to be seen.

"Simon!"

He looked up to see Inara hurrying down the stairs, her red silk skirt fluttering behind her. She seemed out of breath, as though she had run across the ship from her shuttle, and following close behind was Mal.

"Is it true?" she asked breathlessly, coming to a stop beside him. "Is River really alive?"

Before Simon could answer there was a shriek from outside, and he turned to see Shepherd Book and River arriving on a mule. Before the mule had come to a stop River had clambered from the back, pink sundress loose about her legs, and she was running towards the ship. "_Simon_!"

"_River_!" Simon ran from the bay and down the ramp. He and his sister collided with each other, her arms enclosing his neck as his own enveloped her, lifting her from the ground, stumbling from the force of her running into him. She was laughing and crying, babbling in Chinese as she clung to him.

Shepherd Book paid the driver of the mule, then approached them, his face lit with a large smile. "Captain."

"Shepherd." Mal watched the tearful, high-strung reunion. "Miss us already?"

The shepherd laughed. "Oh, give it a week or so."

Mal chuckled. "This is a fine thing." He said. "A fine thing indeed."

River finally looked from her brother to the rest of the crew, and her eyes lit on Kaylee and Inara, who ran down the ramp and joined the embrace. Inara hugged and kissed River, and Kaylee just hugged her and cried, and all the while Simon had not given up his hold.

Mal checked behind him, backed up a step, and sat down on a crate. "Might as well take a seat, Shepherd." He said, indicating another crate. "We look to be here a while."

* * *

It was late. Most of the lights on the ship were off, the only sound the slight thrum of the engines and the slow, even breaths of six sleeping people. The shepherd had returned to the village, with it scheduled that Serenity would pick him up in a month.

Simon sat on River's bed, drawing the blankets up and tucking them in around her. She smiled sleepily at him, her blinks slow and heavy as she fought to stay awake. A slender finger traced his cheek, feeling the hair on his jaw. She frowned a little as her finger found the split on his lip, and the mottled bruising of his nose, but it was quickly forgotten as her gaze moved on, and her fingers began to comb through his hair. "So long." She said, "But mine's longer!"

Simon chuckled. "I hope so!"

Her eyes flickered over his face. "Been so long. Been so sad."

"I'm here now, mei mei."

"You."

He paused, seeing the concern in her eyes. Gently he smoothed her hair back from her forehead. "Not anymore."

A slow smile crept across her face, and River shifted against the pillow. "Happy for many things. Going to have a new sister." She giggled. "Made a face, face turned red!" Grinning in delight she began to sing. "Simon and Kaylee, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-"

"G!" Simon finished, then laughed as her eyes widened.

"Kept seeing you." River said. She smiled. "Like my picture!"

Simon's brows pulled together in confusion for a moment, then he glanced down, realizing she meant his tattoo. "I'm glad."

"I want one." Her eyes danced. "Big needle, all pointy and sharp…"

"Alright. Okay. Hush!" Simon shook his head as she laughed at him, then continued to describe his 'picture.' Simon sat back, settling himself, letting her ramble on, watching as her fingers danced in the air.

He smiled.

* * *

The End

Translation:

• mei mei _little sister_

* * *


End file.
